Eyes Of Blue
by xX-Misty
Summary: Sequel to Chasing Rainbows; Alex wakes in 2011 leaving both herself and Gene falling apart without one another. All roads lead to Manchester as both seek answers but as old secrets are revealed Gene's life is changed forever. Will Alex find her way home?
1. Prologue

_**Author's Note: This is the sequel to Chasing Rainbows (and also kind of to non-A2A story Strange and Beautiful on my FictionPress account, the last of 3 stories which have followed what Robin and Kim have been doing in the real world while Alex has been back in 1996. The next chapter (which I'm uploading now!) featurs a recap of what's been happening in 2011… including Evan and his beard… so don't worry about missing out on anything if you've not read them) This story will mostly be written in an alternate chapter format (2011/1996) like Whispering Her Name but don't be fooled, despite the situation and the prologue this is actually not going to be as dark as several of my previous fics. Expect surrealism as the story progresses.**_

_**The story so far – After discovering she was pregnant, Alex's health faltered and she started getting bleedthroughs from 2011 suggesting she was undergoing make-or-break surgery back in the real world. She began fading in and out as her 1996 body struggled to cope with the extra strain of the pregnancy and when she took a knock during a siege in the station car park it was too much for her and she faded away, waking up in 2011.**_

_**Meanwhile, a drunk and depressed Simon made the worst mistake of his life, having a one-night stand with Keats, who used it against him to take him away from Fenchurch East and to use him for his own purposes. But ultimately Simon's footing in Fenchurch East was too strong and the 'transfer' failed, leaving Keats to wonder exactly what was so special about Simon and why he was the Golden Boy. There is some digging to be done…**_

_**Oh yeah, and Lindsay snuffed it :(**_

_**All the usual disclaimers, don't own A2A, just borrowing, can't promise I'll return it in the condition I found it in though… Dedicated to Morgana and Oceancounty :) Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!**_

**~xXx~**

**Prologue**

"Almost five months, Simon."

Simon was running out of things to say. On the rare occasions Gene spoke these days it was either something rude or something about Alex and there was only so many times he could give the same replies.

Gene minus Alex was a very different Gene and not one Simon recognised. He'd never expected to see Gene losing his fight. He shook his head and tried to take the bottle away from him but Gene was having none of it and held it tightly.

"Are you going to end up needing your stomach pumped from alcohol poisoning every time the month anniversary comes around?" he asked. He knew that was a little uncalled for but Gene was getting to the point of needing an intervention and he wasn't sure what else to say.

Gene stared at the calendar on his wall. It taunted him. Every day that passed was adding to the _Alexless_ total.

"I'd have been a married man by now," he mumbled as he topped up his glass and finally loosened his grip on the bottle.

Simon exhaled sadly as he took the bottle finally and tried to hide it behind a pot plant without Gene seeing.

"I know," he said quietly.

"I'd have been a father next week."

Simon really didn't know what to say any more. It wasn't as though there was anyone else who he could talk to or ask for advice. It had been months since Kim woke up and with Alex gone too there were only Simon and Gene who 'understood' the world. Of course there were people like Eddie and Vickery who knew this wasn't their life but they had no concept of what the world was about either. Simon often felt as though he didn't have an ally. He wished there was someone he could talk to, to offer some advice about how to help Gene, but he was on his own.

Superintendent Fletcher had been somewhat understanding at first. Aware that this was a possibility, he'd already been prepared for Gene to need time and patience if the worst should ever happen but Gene was fast running out of leeway by now.

He wasn't doing his job. He wasn't doing his job upholding the law and he wasn't doing his job as far as his world was concerned. He had little interest in anything that didn't involve alcohol. He'd even tried taking up smoking again, much to Simon's disgust, but to his own horror he found it reminded him too much of the early days with Alex and had to stop again.

Alex was everywhere he looked. There was nothing in that world that didn't remind him of her. He'd tried to stay hopeful that she would find a way back at first but as the weeks went by it became less likely and more of an impossibility. He knew that even if Alex wanted to take the ultimate step to get back to him she never could because Keats received first pick of suicides, leaving her with no option but to wait until she passed away through some other way. Even then there was no guarantee of where or when she would return.

"Come on, Gene, I'll call you a taxi."

Gene ignored Simon as he threw his coat over his shoulder.

"I'll be in the pub drowning in me own vomit if anyone needs me," he mumbled and left the office without even looking him in the eye.

Simon shook his head and gave a worried sigh. _Gene minus Alex_ was an equation that just didn't work.

~xXx~

Alex lost track of how long she had been lying there, flat on her back, unable to move anything except for her eyes and her eyelids. She tried over and over to move a hand or to turn her head but her body wouldn't respond.

_Bloody medication._ She thought to herself.

Oh, this was familiar. This was so familiar. But the last time, her soul had been ripped in two – now there was just one Alex, a _whole_ Alex, but not in the place where she wanted to be.

She cursed herself over and over for making so many stupid decisions – she knew how risky things were – she should never have gone to the station, she should never have tried to talk the gunman down, she should have stayed at home and just kept on calling the office to try to contact Gene. Why the hell didn't she do the sensible thing?

_Because I'm Alex Drake and I tend to do stupid things," _she thought to herself. It was true, she did. She knew when she was taking a risk but she did it anyway.

She closed her eyes tightly as she thought about the life she'd lost. Gene, the baby, Fenchurch East, all the friends that she had made. She thought about everything she was leaving behind. She wouldn't even have her engagement ring with her. She wouldn't even have her scar.

_The tattoo…._ Oh, the _tattoo_… she breathed in deeply as she recalled the little circle Kim had adorned her skin with during her brief time in 2011 after her soul had split in two. Oh, thank _god_ she would at least have that. She just hoped nothing ridiculous had happened, like Evan making them give her laser removal surgery while she was unconscious. From his behaviour before, nothing would have surprised her.

Of course, she was in _that_ body again. That younger, scrawny body that she hated so much the last time around. Her time in 2011 had taught her a few things about herself, that was for certain. All the little insecurities that she'd had about her body back in the nineties actually turned out to be things she treasured; the fuller figure even the scars – all telling the story of her life and what she had survived.

Of course, this time she was leaving behind even more. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes as she thought about the new life that had been growing inside of her. Oh god, her _baby_ - the little life that had never been given a chance. Would it have been a boy or a girl? What kind of a father would Gene have been? How would they have adapted to parenthood? She'd never have a chance to find out now.

But of course, she knew she would be seeing her daughter again. Molly –

_And here comes the guilt._

How was she ever going to look her in the eye knowing that she had chosen her other life over her only daughter? Oh, it wasn't that easy, of course, not in the slightest – fifteen years in Ggene's world had tipped the scales for Alex. She'd been away from Molly for a very long time. But how could her daughter ever come to understand that? She knew she could never explain to Molly where she had been and what she had been through, but the girl wasn't stupid – she would know something was wrong. How was she ever going to adjust to being Molly's mother again?

This didn't seem right; This didn't feel like the end. Was this how Sam Tyler had felt? For the first time she understood why he took that flying leap – but that wasn't an option for Alex. Not unless she wanted to end up in the basement of Fenchurch West.

All she could do was to lay there and hope and pray for a complication or a bad turn, or even a random gunman to burst into her room and send her back to the place she'd left behind; the place she'd come to call home.

This wasn't right. She was sure of it. This all had to be a mistake.

She belonged with Gene. She'd become _real_ there. She had a place in that world. Maybe there was still a way home. Maybe she was back for a reason and there was just one last thing she needed to do before she could say goodbye to the real world and Molly forever?

But she didn't know what that was yet. And she was tired, so _very_ tired, and her eyes were closing again. This wasn't the time to think about it. It wasn't the time to wonder. It was the time to sleep – and then, as she grew stronger, with every day that passed she would count herself one day closer to going home.

Because that was the only thought that kept her going. And _that_ was the way she would find her way home to Gene.


	2. Chapter 1, 2011: Shock Absorbers

_**A/N: I wanted to post this chapter up straight away to get the catch-up over with – apologies to those of you who've read the 'other time line' sequence of stories for the recap here, I just wanted to make sure that the gaps were filled in for those who hadn't read them – sorry it's a bit lengthy but I wanted to just get the recap stuff out the way in one go so it wouldn't impede the pace of the story from the next chapter onwards! If there's anything confusing, do ask!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 1: 2011**

"Shit."

"Shit."

That wasn't actually an unusual conversation for Robin and Kim to partake in. More than once, when something unexpected had happened, they had conversed purely with the same four letter word for several minutes. The drive to the hospital held another such conversation.

The call they'd received explaining excitedly that Alex had regained consciousness had taken them both by surprise and neither knew what to say apart from -

"_Shit."_

Eventually Robin said something that didn't involve swearing.

"How the hell is she going to cope?"

Kim could only shake her head. She had no idea. She didn't even want to think about it if the truth was known. The thought of being split apart from someone you loved by life and death was cutting a little too close to home.

The air was thick and laden as they drove, a fog hanging in the air to accompany the mist that was hanging over their emotions. Alex shouldn't have woken up. She should have stayed right where she was – where she wanted to be. There was no guiding her home this time, no other Alex in 1996 to return to.

There was only one word that Kim could think of to express her feelings. It was back to –

"_Shit."_

~xXx~

Alex felt very much like some kind of exhibit in a museum. Like a fossil; unable to move while others circled her, commenting on various things about her, marvelling over what a miracle it was that she had survived intact.

Eventually someone spoke _to_ her instead of _around_ her. A doctor leaned forward and introduced himself before going on to say,

"You're going to have to be very patient, Alex. It's going to take some time to recuperate. We'll have to take things one day at a time. You'll start to regain feeling and movement in your body within the next twenty four hours and we'll have a better idea of where you are. Now, I understand you must be anxious to see your daughter but because you're still under a fair amount of medication we've asked that she waits until tomorrow to see you. Right now you need to stay as calm and relaxed as possible while the medication begins to wear off." He smiled at her. "However, your friends are coming to see you tonight."

Alex panicked for a moment. Who exactly did he mean by friends? Oh not _Evan,_ please – she couldn't stand the thought of seeing him, not after the rooftop confrontation when she had been in 2011 before.

"Molly asked that they become the representative adults in your medical care," the doctor continued, "Robin Thomas and Kimberley Stringer. They've been at your bedside at least once a week, every single week."

For a moment Alex felt her heart soar – Kim and Robin were the closest thing she had to a taste of home. She was sure that her eyes lit up, if only for a moment. Oh, to see them again. The closest connection she had with Gene's world. Damn that medication and that weak body, she wouldn't be able to speak. But to _see_ them – oh god, she needed that. Her breathing became faster as she tried to contain the comparative elation she felt at the thought of seeing them.

Comparative because she knew she would give anything, anything at all, to be back with Gene. While she was away from him, those who understood were the next best thing, and she waited anxiously for their arrival.

_Don't fall asleep, you stupid cow,_ she warned herself as her eyes felt heavy.

These were visitors that she needed to see.

~xXx~

"What the hell are we going to tell her?"

That was the one question Kim asked as they walked through the hospital corridors, fighting over who got to carry the bunch of flowers. Robin bit his lip nervously as he glanced at her.

"Bagsy you tell her everything," he said quickly.

"Rob! You can't _bagsy_ that!"

"I just did!"

"Bollocks you did. We'll tell her together. Just don't know how."

"I'm not doing another bloody great speech like the one in the car park," Robin warned.

"Don't worry, I'm sure they've got anti-nausea medication on standby," Kim teased.

"Bloody cheeky cow!" Robin cried, but he was smiling. They'd needed to break the tension somehow. They were both nervous, and under the circumstances who wouldn't be? So much had happened in the eight months since the car crash sent Alex back to the nineties. She was never going to believe half of it. Kim and Robin had a hard enough time believing it themselves.

~x~

In the aftermath of the crash and Alex re-entering a coma, Kim and Robin developed a close bond. Both of them had trouble feeling comfortable and confident enough to form close friendships so this was something new for both of them. They felt happier when they were together than when they were apart, as though the experience they'd shared had given them a bond for life.

Within a few weeks, their lives were thrown into chaos as a comatose Keats took a short holiday to 2011 in the body of one unconscious Arthur Layton. With access to both Layton's memories and malevolence, Keats began an almost meaningless rampage to cause as much chaos as possible. He began by attacking the guards in his hospital room and escaping, after which he paid a visit to Evan White, wrecked his beard trimmer, taunted him for choosing Lady Chatterley's Lover as his bedside reading material and left him tied up and trouserless before stealing his car and kidnapping Molly.

His next port of call was to kidnap Kim then completing his set of _kidnappees _by luring Robin on a wild goosechase for his friend. It didn't take long for Kim and Robin to see that it was no longer Layton behind that crumbling face.

While Keats was busy succumbing to Layton's drug-addled urges, Kim and Robin's hushed conversation became fraught and deep as Robin realised that all the signs were pointing to him already being dead; moments he felt the pull from the other world, times that he had received glimpses from the other side. Amid the pressure and the distress, in a moment of strange compulsion, Kim and Robin shared a kiss that shocked them both – but neither were ore shocked than a high Keats who arrived back at the wrong moment.

Driving him to Robin's flat with a tied-up Robin in the back of the car, he prepared to carry out the ultimate in dark and terrible revenge but a photograph of Robin's parents sent him into an unexpected furious rage and he abandoned his plan, deciding instead to pay a visit to the comatose Alex with every intention of killing her and stealing her soul. In a literal fight to the death Robin suffered myriad horrific slashes across his stomach and chest but finally took Keats's life. As Keats died, so he left Layton's body and the wounds Robin had inflicted disappeared too – he had killed the devil, leaving the unwilling host living and breathing again.

In a flurry of desperate action Robin, awash with blood, drove with speed to save Kim and Molly but as he collapsed from his wounds once they were safe and the paramedics worked to revive him Kim's heart failed and suddenly she found herself in the same position as Robin – wondering just how alive she was supposed to be.

With his home forever tainted by the terrible memory of Keats, Robin couldn't bear to stay there any longer and moved onto Simon's old flat. With Kim's help he made the flat his own and he started to quickly feel at home but for himself and Kim a strange and turbulent time was about to begin.

~x~

As he reached out for Kim's hand as they neared the end of the corridor and saw her smile slightly from the comfort it seemed strange to him that things had ever been so difficult to deal with between them. But when a gay man and a lesbian fall in love – well, that's always likely to throw up a few problems, right?

~x~

It had happened so slowly and Robin had tried to fight it but a few days after moving into his new home he found her constantly on his mind. He couldn't think of anything else. He couldn't understand the feelings he had towards her, he was highly settled in his sexuality and he knew that he was as gay as he'd always been, but something about Kim was driving him crazy. His mental torture reached epic proportions as he had an extremely unexpected physical reaction to her hands touching him as she began a new tattoo in his back and he spent much of the night torturing himself with guilt and confusion which increased to epic proportions as he found himself fantasizing over her.

Betrayed by his over-excited body parts, Kim had a fair idea of Robin's feelings when they treated her to an encore of their tattooing reaction a couple of days later and she fled from the scene, leaving Robin to fear he'd ruined their friendship forever. He had no idea that her reaction had been born from the shock that he might just have been feeling the same way about her that she had been feeling for him.

Oh _god,_ she'd been struggling with that. She knew full well she was gay. She wasn't bisexual, no matter what Keats and his army of drugs and hypnosis night have done. She didn't like men, they just weren't attractive in her eyes, but she couldn't stop thinking about Robin. There was an attraction between them, and they both knew it wasn't based on physical appearances – neither could have been further removed from the other's 'type' – but something ran far deeper between them. Was it because of their shared experiences? Both understanding what it was like to have been a part of Gene's world? The pressured moments they'd shared helping Alex and trying to escape Keats? Or were they just supposed – somehow – to have found each other?

Days of avoiding each other finally ended when Layton's bail hearing brought them back together and Robin talked his way out of the _trouser lump_ Kim had witnessed. All the excuses came forward – he was lonely, it had been so long since he'd been touched, his body was just reacting to anything… he knew that wasn't true but as long as Kim bought it and stopped avoiding him then that was all that mattered.

He offered to cook her a meal as an apology, an offer she accepted, but when she arrived on his doorstep that night in floods of tears after a terrible row with her wife the evening went awry and in comforting her they ended up in a deep and passionate kiss, discovering Robin's physical reaction once again freaked Kim out and she fled from his home. Tearfully calling him, she admitted that she had feelings for him too, but she couldn't bear the thought of being physical with a man. She really didn't have any physical attraction to a male body, feeling fairly phobic about the idea of touching his trouser lump and the only sexual contact she'd ever had with a man had been Keats, acts induced by drugs and other means.

Trying to avoid each other for fear of getting hurt, to their horror the escape of Nick Nailer from jail brought them together on a case and they gave in again to the unbeatable sexual tension between them with an illicit kiss in CID, but talking things through they decided it was just too difficult and complicated – neither could cope with the physical act of being with someone from a gender they had no interest in and the guilt associated with it was gruelling – with Kim married and Robin not knowing when or if he would ever see Simon again they knew they had to keep their friendship as it was or risk losing each other altogether. But that night there was no fighting the attraction between them.

Despite several aborted attempts at taking things further (between Robin freaking out at discovering Kim's bra and Kim almost doing a runner again) they both succumbed to their feelings and shared a passionate night together which left them both bewildered, terrified and full of guilt. Deciding they needed to send time apart to discover for certain how deeply their feelings ran, for a couple of weeks they had no contact. The distance almost killed them. But when both were called as witnesses for Evan's trial they had to see one another again. Robin felt anxious about Kim's frail and unwell appearance and the next day she called and asked to see him. It seemed that there had been an unexpected complication left from their night together and despite taking the morning after pill Kim suspected she was pregnant.

Vowing to stand by her whatever happened, Robin set out to buy her a test and promptly ended up chasing a wanted criminal and getting kidnapped by Nailer's goons, alongside his embarrassing chemists' goods. Of all people it was actually Nailer who talked some sense into Robin, telling him not to let love pass him by.

Kim led the rescue to Robin and the arrest of Nailer but tragedy followed as one of Nailer's men made a quick getaway, hitting Kim with his car. She suffered cracked ribs and a miscarriage which devastated them both. When Kim tried to convince them that it must have been a sign that they weren't meant to be and that it was for the best Robin realised how deeply his feelings for her ran and risked some Gene Hunt-style driving to stop her from walking away this time. He begged her to give them a chance. No decisions, no commitment, no pressure – they would take things as slowly as they needed to but they had to find out what was there between them. Moved by his words, and with her feelings for him growing all the time, Kim went home with him that night.

They spent weeks creeping around behind Linda's back, trying to understand the feelings they had for one another which became deep and stronger with every day that passed. Eventually Robin began to find it too hard to share her with Linda and an argument exploded between them, but the next day he felt something was wrong and found her, collapsed on the floor, experiencing bleedthroughs from the other world. She wasn't the only one who was having them as Robin had suffered an extremely vivid front-row view of Simon's dalliance with Keats which cut his heart to pieces.

Realising that worlds were coming closer, and both fearing that one of them could be drawn across at any time, they decided they had to stop their relationship before it grew any deeper to save them the pain of being parted by life and time, just as Robin and Simon, and Kim and Shaz, had suffered before. Planning one last, special night together, they finally said their goodbyes and parted but Kim knew that she was saying goodbye to the wrong person and left her bullying wife that day, heading straight back to Robin. They both knew that they would be parted at some point but they knew now it was too hard to be apart – they had to be together, whatever it took.

They shared a few wonderful weeks together, drawing ever closer, until Kim's sudden sickness brought the suspicion of pregnancy to them both. In much the same way as Gene and Alex had found themselves with a baby on the way, Robin and Kim's decision not to use protection had been unspoken, mostly born of the feelings her miscarriage had stirred up for them, and neither were surprised when her test turned positive but their joy was short-lived when she miscarried days later.

Both blaming themselves and finding it hard to talk about their loss a row erupted, with Kim accusing Robin of wanting to keep their relationship secret forever and fearing that, ultimately, she will always destined to lose him to Simon, the love of his life. After much soul searching and tears Robin realised that want he had with Kim was unexpected but special. _Strange and beautiful_. He took Simon's photo down from the wall and removed his ring, then rushed to find her at the station and to set the record straight but found Kim in the middle of a hostage situation in the car park, talking an escaped suspect out of slitting the throat of a colleague.

His amazement and awe at her bravery led him to make a gushing speech in front of a car park full of colleagues that left the station in no doubt about the relationship between them – and led to many recreations from his_ oh-so-comedic_ colleagues in the weeks that followed.

They both knew that eventually the other world would come calling, they could feel it and their time together was limited. But as strange and unconventional as their relationship was, they were happier than ever and rock-solid.

In many ways, despite the fire that existed between them, their relationship was very sweet and innocent. It was still so new to both of them that they often felt embarrassed and awkward to be doing normal _couple_ things together. It was a different relationship to any that they'd had ever had. For the first time, Kim was able to let her defences down and show a softer side, while Robin found that Kim's influence gave him confidence and brought him out of his shell. They complimented each other, balanced each other out and despite an almost reversed gender situation between them they were very much in love.

~x~

"Shit, what's she going to say about Evan?" Kim asked quietly.

That was something else Alex had missed while she'd been comatose. Evan's trial had led to him being found guilty on three counts – _conspiracy to cause grievous bodily harm or manslaughter, perverting the course of justice_ and _having a really crappy beard_, for which the jury found him 'very fucking guilty'. He was now languishing in jail and being clean-shaven every day by a large man called Geoff. The most shocking aspect of the trial had been when Noel Edmonds arrived for the sentencing. Robin and Kim were unsure whether it was just a case of beard solidarity or whether Evan might have been a branch on the Edmonds family tree. Technically he could have been Mister Blobby's half-brother.

So much had changed while Alex had been comatose. It was going to be incredibly hard for her to come to terms with much of it.

"Robin, Kim, it's good to see you again," Alex's doctor shook their hands,.

"How's she doing, when did she wake up?" Robin asked quickly.

The doctor hustled them into a side room to address their questions.

"She regained consciousness a few hours ago," he began, "initial signs are good, she seems to be stable and we are slowly stemming the medication, but right now she's still unable to move or to speak."

"When will you know if there's been any long term damage from her brain injury?" Kim whispered.

"We'll begin to get a clearer picture when she is able to regain speech and movement," the doctor told them, "it's going to be a very long process, she won't recover overnight. She'll need many months of therapy. But she's already shown what a fighter she is and we'll do all we can to support her."

Robin took a deep breath.

"Can we see her now?" he asked.

The doctor hesitated.

"Just a moment," he said, "before you do, we want to avoid overtaxing her or putting her into any stressful situation, so please be very careful what you say to her for the foreseeable future." 

Robin and Kim exchanged a glance.

"In what way, be careful what we say?" asked Kim.

"The more relaxed she remains, the faster she will be able to recuperate," the doctor told them, "we want to help her avoid any setbacks in her recovery. So keep the chatter light and simple. Avoid any shocks, anything that might confuse or distress her."

Robin bit his lip.

"So, uh," he cleared his throat, "if her godfather had been sent to prison for a lengthy period of time in her absence then that would qualify as a shock?"

The doctor frowned.

"Well, yes," he said.

"And if a madman had managed to get into her hospital room and tried to stab her with a pair of scissors while she was unconscious," Robin continued, "that would probably qualify as a shock too."

The doctor started to look a little unnerved.

"Uh, most definitely," he said.

"And if she had two friends… who were both gay… but one was male and one was female… and they'd suddenly fallen in love and entered a serious relationship despite their sexuality… would that count as a shock as well?"

The doctor started to back out of the door.

"Uh, all of the above matters would definitely be ones to avoid," he said, quickly fleeing from what appeared to be a slightly insane situation.

Robin glanced at Kim and bit his lip.

"This is going to seriously limit our topics of conversation," he commented.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Just as a personal note, Robin and Kim's storyline came from my real life experience – this is the Author's note I put on the first chapter of their first solo story which explains it better:-**_

_**Time to give a little background here. This is a case of characters running away with you. This used to happen to me all the time while I was writing years ago, I wouldn't intentionally put two characters in a relationship/friendship/crush etc scenario, it would develop by chance as things went along. While I was writing Dead Man Walking no one would have been more surprised than me to find Robin and Kim getting closer – and they were my own bloody characters!**_

_**But this is a subject that fascinates me and one that I know about very well indeed, the subject of someone falling in love outside of their lifelong sexuality. I knew I was gay from a very early age and had a hard time coming to terms with it. I went through years of being in the closet and slowly coming to terms with it, then homophobia and prejudice, and then – when I was finally happy and settled with my sexuality – I fell in love with a man. No, that doesn't make me bisexual. I am very gay, believe me! In fact I have often said in the past that falling in love with a man made me more sure than anything that I was a lesbian. Our relationship is very different, we talk about women we like all the time, we share the same taste in women too (which helps!) it's not a physical attraction for me at all, I fell in love with his personality and it was one of those things where we were supposed to be together no matter who we were, men, women or a couple of anteaters or something.**_

_**But there are huge amounts of issues involved in this kind of relationship and although I've seen this subject touched on occasionally in the media the only descent representation of it I've ever seen was an ITV drama a decade ago called Bob & Rose. I've encountered other individuals who have fallen in love outside of their sexuality, both gay people who suddenly fell in love with a member of the opposite sex and straight people who suddenly fell for someone of their own gender. It's one of those things that is just so complicated and so layered that it's impossible to actually explain it eloquently to somebody and it's very hard for anyone to understand how I can be married to a man and not be bisexual.**_

_**In the past I had spiteful comments from all corners but I eventually learnt not to care – I don't fit in a box, I'm just me. "A lesbian who fell in love with a man" (I have a girlfriend too, but that's beside the point) But as a while the subject is one I find interesting and one that I've never actually written about so this seemed like the perfect opportunity to explore the issues involved, redefining how you see yourself, coming to terms with a shift in your identity, understanding that sometimes things happen out of the blue, the physical and emotional issues and so on.**_

_**So, before anyone thinks 'it'd never happen', I just wanted to say it can* happen, because I'm living proof!**_

_**~xXx~**_

_**The first proper 1996 chapter will be up tomorrow! x**_


	3. Chapter 1, 1996: Pickled Gene

_**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and alerts so far, I really hope that you'll enjoy the story as it develops… basically all the series I've written so far have been building up to this one! Anyway, now the festive season is drawing to a close, let's get back to business…**_

**Chapter 1: 1996**

"Oh for fuck's sake…" Simon closed his eyes and sighed, leaning heavily against the door post, "not again..."

He could smell Gene before he even saw him. The pungent waft of alcohol filled much of CID. He was getting tired of playing babysitter. It was a role he'd given himself in some kind of attempt at making up for his betrayal of Gene and Alex when he made the mistake that almost ruined his life. There wasn't a day that went by in which he didn't regret the whole wretched situation he'd ended up getting into. Sleeping with Keats, becoming his doormat, his 'transfer' to Fenchurch West – it had all been a nightmare of the worst possible kind and he knew he could spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it while still never really feeling that he would.

As soon as Gene and Simon watched the CCTV footage that showed Alex had vanished Simon knew he'd have to step up and support him. He knew that Gene was going to take it harder than anything else that he could ever have experience but noting had prepared him for just how badly Alex's vanishing would affect Gene.

Simon had never met Gene in his pre-Alex days but he supposed he was getting a glimpse of the Gene of old. There were benders and nights on the town, claims of police brutality against him and a steadily increasing number of _Filing Cabinet Incidents. _Simon lost count of the number of times he'd taken the bottle out of his hand or put him in a taxi or even just put him down in the medical room with a coat over him to sleep it off when he rolled in at ten in the morning after an all-nighter.

He remembered Sam Tyler's words after heaven had gone slightly awry for a day. He'd told Simon to look after Gene for him. Simon had been trying but he wasn't sure he was doing a very good job so far.

He walked towards Gene's office and found him arguing drunkenly with the coat stand.

"Gene," he sighed.

Gene glanced around.

"Oh," he mumbled, _"you're_ Simon. Thought you'd lost a bit of weight. Don't leave yer jacket on here next time. Gets too confusing."

Simon wrinkled up his nose. Gene had breath that could peel the paint off the walls.

"Have you been home?" he asked.

Gene sat at his desk and put his feet on the top. There was a half-finished kebab on the desk and what looked like the other half of it regurgitated underneath it.

"Home?" Gene raised an eyebrow, "what's that then? Were the heart is, isn't it?" he pulled out his flask from is pocket and unscrewed the cap, "I don't have one o'them any more so I s'pose I haven't got a home either."

"Guv?" Eddie poked his head around the door, seemingly oblivious to the smell, "The Super wants to see you."

Simon's heart sank as he looked at the state of Gene, picturing him trying to converse with the Super while he was in this state.

"Right," Gene mumbled as he got unsteadily to his feet, "better go and see what old rubber-lips wants now. Help with 'is crossword. Ears syringed or something."

As he staggered towards the door, Simon tried to hold him back.

"Gene, I don't think this is a very good idea," he said quietly.

"Never a good idea to see the Super, not with that bloody 'haircut," Gene mumbled, "but needs must an' all that." He hiccupped and walked straight into Simon who pushed him back and held him at arm's length.

"You can't be serious about seeing him now," he cried in alarm, "look at the state of you, Gene!"

"Like old Fletcher's never had a hangover or two on the job." 

"You've not even _reached_ the hangover phase yet, you've still got more alcohol in you than in the local branch of Thresher's!"

"Look, Shoebury, I appreciate yer concern…" Gene began before shaking his head, "Bugger that, I don't appreciate a word of it, you're pissing me off. Get out me way and let me go and screw up me career."

"You stink," Simon told him.

"Not so fond o' you right now either."

"No, I mean you _literally_ stink," Simon's nose wrinkled again, "It's not just the alcohol either… when was the last time you washed?"

"Don't need your kind scrubbing me back for me," Gene mumbled.

Simon bristled at that remark, but let it slide through his concern.

"You need to go home, get showered, get a clean change of clothes and a bloody vat of mouthwash before you can go and see Fletcher," he said.

"Listen, Fluffball, I don't need you talking me through yer homo preening routine," Gene snapped, shoving Simon out of the way, "so take yer size elevens and bugger off to yer own side of CID. Haven't you got computers to shag or something?"

"Gene!" Simon tried one last time, calling after him as he weaved through the office and out of Simon's reach. He gave a sigh of defeat as Gene's swaying form disappeared out of sight. This couldn't go on, it just could. Much more of this and Gene would be without a job as well as without a fiancée.

~xXx~

Superintendent Fletcher really hated his job. He never used to. In fact, he enjoyed his work as a Super far more than he'd ever enjoyed his days as a DCI. It wasn't really until he saw people like Gene and Alex at work that he understood why. Their passion for the job inspired him, but he always felt rather them than me. He knew that he wasn't cut out for being the same kind of guardian that they had been. And even though Gene and the others were the ones who were supposed to be 'doing it wrong', it sure seemed to be right to him.

But on recent months he'd seen things starting to fall apart, first being down a DCI as Alex disappeared, then trying to smooth over the cracks that Gene's unruly behaviour had caused. He was getting sick and tired of it. He had every sympathy for Gene but that was starting to wear thin.

There was a slightly staggered knock at the door.

"Come in," he sighed, already knowing who it was going to be. Sure enough, Gene entered the room, his eyes unfocused. The smell of the alcohol seemed to arrive in the room long before the rest of him. He took a deep breath as he studied Gene. This wasn't the strong figure he was used to seeing.

"You wanted to see me, sir," Gene's voice was little more than a slur by now.

"Yes, I did," the super told him, "I was hoping to see you a little less inebriated than this though."

"I'm as sober as a nun's arse," Gene mumbled.

"A nun's arse that's been pickled in scotch," The super shook his head, "take a seat, Gene."

Gene sat down a little awkwardly, unsure if he could park his backside on the seat properly. He looked at the upper as two Fletchers spun around him and he had to blink several times to make them merge back into one.

"What d'you want?" he asked.

Fletcher looked at him seriously.

"I do understand how bad things have been for you lately," he began, "don't think otherwise. I know losing Alex dealt you a terrible blow."

"Not been blown in months," Gene mumbled.

"But you're out of chances, Gene. You need to pull your socks up."

"Any requests for me underpants as well?" Gene asked but jumped out of his skin as the super barked,

"Shut your mouth for once and _listen_ to me!" Gene wasn't used to hearing Fletcher talk like that. In fact, he'd never heard him raise his voice. Gene wasn't usually one for getting along well with authority figures but he and Fletcher had always had an understanding. Fletcher knew that Gene was on top of things at Fenchurch East and allowed him pretty much to run things the way he saw fit. But Gene had lost that grip on his world now, and with it Fletcher's respect had slipped to. "You've dropped the ball too many times lately, Hunt," he said crossly, "we've had complaints coming out of our eyeballs, dry cleaning bills from people whose clothes you've thrown up on and now this."

He threw a file across the desk at Gene. Gene peered at it but couldn't make a lot of sense out of it.

"Can yer stop the letters moving around?" he asked.

"It was a confession," Fletcher barked, "Fraser's confession, and he's a free man because you forgot to get him to sign the damn thing!"

Gene leaned back in his chair.

"Probably couldn't work out how to hold the pen anyway," he said.

"It's not good enough, Gene!" Fetcher barked as he got to his feet, "enough's enough. No more chances. The line is drawn right here, right now." He slammed his fists on the desk and leaned forward. "I suggest you go home, have a shave and a shower, spend the day sleeping off however many gallons you've consumed in the last twenty four hours and come in tomorrow to turn over a new leaf."

Gene staggered to his feet.

"And if I don't?"

Fletcher held his ground.

"Otherwise you'll be spending a lot more than one day at home," he said, "Unless you want a sabbatical or a suspension, you'd better get your act together."

"Is that an order?" Mumbled Gene.

"It's a warning," Fletcher told him, "now get out of this station and go home. I shall see you tomorrow – I hope with more blood than scotch in your veins."

Gene narrowed his eyes at Fletcher. He didn't like being spoken to that way, even when he knew the man was right.

"Yes, Sir," he mumbled and left before he could let his runaway mouth lead him to make a comment that he would later regret involving the Super, a sheep and ten barrels of swarfega.


	4. Chapter 2, 2011: Subject Avoidance

**Chapter 2: 2011**

It was with apprehension that Robin and Kim slowly walked into Alex's hospital room remembering at the last moment to stop holding hands, slapping each other away slightly frantically. With everything that had happened they weren't sure how the hell they were going to think of anything to say to her that didn't involve a 'shock'. At least while she was unable to talk she couldn't ask any questions either, but within a day or so there could be a _'Where's Evan?_' or a _'Why is there so much security around my room?'_ or a '_Why have you got your hand on Kim's bottom?'_ at any time.

It seemed so, so strange to see her eyes open as she lay there in the bed, just as she'd been all those times they'd come to see her. Despite knowing full well that there was another place that Alex wanted to be both Robin and Kim found excitement brewing inside them at the thought of actually being able to talk to her and knowing that she could hear them. Her eyes turned to them as they drew closer, both smiling nervously. God, could there ever be a stranger situation than this?

"Hi, Alex," Robin said quietly as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. He wasn't sure what to say – telling her it was good to see her awake wasn't the right thing to say to a woman who didn't want to be there. In fact, very little seemed appropriate. In the end he didn't have to say anything because Kim cried out a warning,

"Careful, Rob, you just twatted her with the flowers."

"Oops," Robin withdrew and held the flowers further away, "sorry. I knew we should have brought grapes."

Kim gave a nervous smile as she walked closer and kissed Alex on the forehead.

"I didn't think we were ever going to see you again," she whispered, her eyes looking a little tearful.

They both sat down beside her bed, focused on her eyes as they moved back and forth between them. Both worried that they wouldn't be able to find a thing to say but finally Robin began,

"Alex, we both… we know you didn't want to be here." He saw her eyes mist over, "we both know that you're not back by choice. We understand that… that whatever pulled you back, it wasn't your decision. We know we can't do anything about that, but we both want you to know that we're here. Whatever we can to do support you, we're here for you."

"I've come to learn how important it is to have people around who understand," Kim said quietly, her eyes darting to Robin just for a moment. "Any time you need us… any time you want to talk, or anything that we can do to help you, please just ask. We're right here."

"We've got so much to tell you," Robin began as Kim elbowed him, "Uh… no we haven't…"

"He means, we'll catch you up when you're feeling a bit stronger," She covered, "we know that'll take a while."

"We should form a coma club or something," Robin commented.

"Don't want to know what the initiation is for that," Kim commented, pulling a face.

They both realised they had very little else to say. Knowing that all the obvious topics were out of bounds, they didn't know what did and didn't constitute a shock. Robin chanced one piece of news.

"Hey, I got a promotion, Alex. Thanks to the whole_… Layton catching_ thing…" He realised he wasn't sure if he was allowed to talk about Layton and tried to gloss over that part, "I'm a chief inspector now."

"And I'm…" Kim paused and frowned. "I'm not sure what I am, actually. It's all been a bit crazy. There's supposed to be a promotion… Oh yeah, I rejoined the force, did I mention that?"

"She's got hostage negotiation training next week," Robin interjected

"The irony, huh?" Kim said quietly, recalling how she exited Gene's world and made her own way home so many years ago, "but yeah, I have no idea what my title's going to be… they did say something about needing to fill the DI post… there was this incident with a detective inspector and a glory-hole filled cardboard cut-out of Nick Nailer…"

"Which is probably not the kind of story that's going to make Alex feel any better right now," Robin pulled a face, thinking about the scandal.

Kim hesitated.

"Yeah… probably one to avoid." She smiled at Alex, feeling a little selfish for being glad to actually speak to her while she was conscious. She knew that Alex wanted to be anywhere but there.

It was difficult to scrape up topics of conversation that didn't fit under the 'shock' category. They tried to stay on safe ground – talking about work, cases that Alex wouldn't know anything about, strange things they'd seen around lately, doing impersonations of some of the doctors, until finally a nurse came and shooed them out.

"Alex needs her rest now," she said.

Robin and Kim hated to admit it but they felt just a little relieved not to have to think of 'safe' topics any longer. It really wasn't all that easy. They got to their feet and turned to Alex to say their goodbyes.

"We'll be back tomorrow," Kim told her quietly, "I've got customers booked up until one o'clock –"

"- She's still tattooing part time," Robin explained,

"…But we'll be in by…" she turned to Robin, "two? Half two?"

"Should be finished in the gym by twelve," Robin said, "so I'll have lunch ready by the time you come home."

Kim froze and her eyes turned to Alex guiltily.

"Uh…" she swallowed, "I'm staying with Robin for a few weeks."

"Oh shit, yes…" Robin realised he'd almost said too much, "yes, that's right, she is."

"So we'll, err…" she coughed, "we'll be in around two to half past." She looked at Alex with a slightly nervous smile. "See you tomorrow, Ma'am," she felt herself becoming a little emotional, "stay strong"

They both waved awkwardly and said their goodbyes before they left the hospital room and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Shit, that was hard," Robin closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.

"It's like playing the yes/no game on a grand scale," Kim agreed, "there's nothing we're allowed to bloody say!"

Robin rubbed his forehead and swept his fringe out of his eye.

"We'll talk tonight," he began, "and compile a list of things we can say and stuff to avoid. We'll be prepared tomorrow."

"Great, _homework,"_ Kim pulled a face.

Robin sighed and finally stopped slouching against the wall as they began to walk along the hospital corridor together. It felt as though a lifetime had passed in the half hour or so since they arrived in the building.

"That was hard enough, it's going to be even worse when she regains her speech," Kim commented, "I don't know how were supposed to skirt around some of the stuff that's happened. How long do we have to avoid giving her 'shocks' for anyway?"

"I have no idea," Robin shook his head, "I expect they'll have to tell her about Evan fairly soon. She'll start asking about him first, I reckon."

"And what are we going to say about her and Gene?" Kim felt her stomach churning at the thought of Alex being separated from him after a decade and a half of seeing each other every day. "How the hell are we going to help her through this?"

"I have no idea," Robin shook his head, "you'd think it would be easier for us… we've both been in that position, waking up and leaving someone over there… but…"

"…It makes it harder," Kim finished for him, "because we know how much that hurts."

Robin nodded.

"Exactly."

They found their way out of the hospital and climbed into the car, feeling deflated and anxious. This was just the start of it. Could Alex ever really come to terms with waking up after all those years?

~xXx~

Alex felt numb. She was already numb physically, the medication insured that, but she felt numb emotionally too. It felt very unreal. There was a part of her that felt sure when she went to sleep she'd weak up and be back in Gene's world again. _Oh god, _she wished that was true.

"Did you enjoy seeing your friends, Alex?" the nurse asked her with a smile.

_Like I can reply,_ Alex tried to scowl but managed to move little more than her eyes.

Her face began to feel a little more expressive now though. Her brow felt as though it moved just a little and if she concentrated very hard she could move her top lip a couple of millimetres. That was a start at least.

_And I've got all my marbles. Not sure Gene would agree with that though, _she thought to herself, her heart skipping just a little as she thought about it.

Once again she felt deep down that this wasn't it. It didn't feel over. She hadn't said goodbye to Gene or his world. She was torn in two – half of her felt desperately sad and depressed, being taken from Gene and her life and retuned to a world in which she didn't belong any more, while the other half clung to a hope that she simply wasn't meant to be back for long and that Gene's world was calling for her again. As she closed her eyes and started to drift into sleep it was the latter of the two that she focused on.

She'd come too far with Gene and Fenchurch East to leave all of that behind. She was going to find her way home. She'd done it once before and she could do it again.

Dreams of home filled her sleep as she let her weak body rest and recuperate. The dreams would do for now. As soon as she was strong enough she would work out what she needed to do to make them her reality again.


	5. Chapter 2, 1996: Family Ties

**Chapter 2: 1996**

Keats was growing angry and frustrated by now.

"If you want a job done properly, do it yourself," he muttered.

It had been five months since he'd vowed to find out exactly why Simon was so deeply rooted in Fenchurch East. Something, it seemed, had predisposed him for taking the role that he had been given and his footing seemed unshakable. But unfortunately his search had faced a few setbacks.

The first was Alex's disappearance from the world. It had been a double-edged sword for Keats and caused two distractions for a while. The first was that he was surprised by how much her awakening had affected him. It hadn't driven him to _mirror-smashing_ action like Kim leaving the world but it had certainly thrown him somewhat. Alex had been the first person he'd set his sights on. He didn't like to admit it but she had been the first woman he'd fallen in love with, although his feelings for her had never run as deep as those he felt for Kim.

He'd ended up taking one of his _leaves of absence_, much to Victoria's chagrin. Once again she was put in charge then swept away as soon as he breathed back in as though nothing had ever happened.

The second way in which Alex's disappearance had been a distraction was that he'd spent much of his time observing and enjoying the effect on Fenchurch East as Gene slowly went to pieces. He'd rubbed his hands with glee as he'd seen the shadow of a man Gene had become. He prided himself on appearing at least once a week with a few words of wisdom for him such as "_Never mind, Gene, it saved you the heartache in the long run when she eventually realised she'd married an alcoholic!"_

Unfortunately for Keats it seemed that Simon was always lurking around the corner and he'd barely get out one insult before he found himself escorted off the premises again. _Damn it._ Bloody golden boy. He had tried to lure Simon back, both to his station and his bed, but Simon was busy trying to preserve what was left of Fenchurch East and wasn't going to falter this time.

Aside from Alex-related distractions Keats had also found that useful information wasn't forthcoming. He'd requested various background searches on Simon's family but little had emerged and certainly nothing of any use. He had to remember that he could only search as far as an eighteen-year-old Simon, too. Anything that happened between 1996 and Simon's death was inaccessible, unless it had been in a professional capacity.

Keats had suspected that it may have been at first. He'd pored through Simon's file again and again, wondering if it was some case or collar that had been connected to the world that had given him a special place there, but he couldn't find a thing. It had to be a personal matter somewhere along the line.

But the Shoebury family at 17 Holly Row seemed to be an average family, nothing much to write home about. There was the father; the widow, the doting family man with a fondness for DIY; there was Claire, the eldest sister, happily married and big in the world of curtain design, and there was Elaine, the middle sister, uni graduate and library dweller. And then there was Simon; eighteen year old Simon, just starting out at university after excelling in his exams, young and enthusiastic, just starting to explore the world. It was enough to make Keats throw up.

Between them their collective felonies amounted to one parking ticket_; overturned_, one late library book; fee fully paid, and accidentally denting a garage door with a skateboard.

Keats examined every aspect of their family life. He was more than happy to admit to lurking outside the house on several occasions, with binoculars on hand. The worst incident he witnessed was someone burning a piece of toast and one of Simon's sisters – he wasn't sure which on e- picking her nose.

He'd watched Simon's farther driving off to work, seen the family sit down to dinner and watched Simon sitting on the garden wall, reading his X-files magazines. He realised that he was reaching stalker proportions the night he witnessed the 18 year old blue-eyed boy disappearing into town in a strange costume and followed him to an 80s night at a nightclub where he witnessed him encountering, for the first time, a clearly underage Robin complete with a fake ID and a Boy George outfit with whom he hit it off in an instant. The moment sent Keats into a rage that resulted in a dent in the wall, a broken toe and a fast exit from the club courtesy of a burly bouncer.

Keats eventually decided to dig back further into the Shoebury family tree. If it was nothing to do with the family as they were then it was time to go back further. From little baby Simon's first vaccinations to the day his parents met, Keats was going to leave no stone unturned.

Wading through the papers for yet another day he started on a pile of copies of legal documents and certificates; births, deaths, marriages… all the good stuff.

"Ahh, Mrs Shoebury," he sighed as he adjusted his glasses, "the lesser-spotted mother. Died nineteen eighty three… poor little Simon." He pulled her documents into his lap and looked at each one in turn, hesitating over the copy of her birth certificate. "Oh yes, place of birth…" he frowned, "now that is very interesting… very interesting indeed…" he laid the other certificates side by side, checking the facts to make sure there was no mistake. His mind started to race although he couldn't quite work out where it was leading. With one last adjustment of his spectacles he lifted the phone and dialled a number.

"Morris! Hey, Jim here. Yeah…. Long time no speak, right?" he listened and gave a laugh of false cheer. "Need a favour. Someone I need checking out. …Yeah, just a quick one, happy to send a few files your way any time you need them in return. ..Yeah, you ready?" he listed the certificate and read, "Name's Marie Ann Shoebury, maiden name of Hooper. Date of birth, thirteenth of June nineteen forty six. See if you can get anything on the family." He paused and gave another laugh as his acquaintance tried and failed to be amusing, "alright. Alright mate. See you."

As he put down the phone his fake laughs and smiles faded and a look of curious malevolence came upon his face. He was getting somewhere now, he was pretty damn sure of it. He couldn't explain why, it was just a hunch. And hopefully a hunch that would lead to finding out exactly why Simon earned such a firm place in the world because that would be the first step to rotting his roots away.

~xXx~

Simon knew he was going to end up running the whole of CID again that day. It was starting to get on his nerves. Alex's department had been reabsorbed back into CID as a whole and when Gene was on one of his many alcohol seeking/recovery missions then Simon was left running from one department to the other, trying to keep CID and the Hi-Tech Crimes department going smoothly. It was getting to the point where he was considering a pair of rollerskates to aid his journey along the corridor at speed.

He was used to Gene stinking like a brewery and wearing an expression like a smacked arse in a lemon factory but when he saw Eddie looking equally disgruntled and smelling suspiciously of scotch he started to lose his temper.

"Oh for pity's sake, not you too," he cried.

Eddie shoved his papers to one side and glanced up.

"Sorry, sir," he mumbled, "getting homesick."

Simon closed his eyes. He hated the whole_ 'this is the real world, shape up or ship out' _malarkey. Gene was good at that. Simon, not so much so. He hated being in that position, knowing what Eddie was going through. Gene had never had that – he'd arrived in his own world dead. He wondered how Alex had coped all those years.

"Sorry," he said a little uncomfortably, "but I've already got DCI Hunt out for the day…"

"I know," said Eddie, "how do you think I managed to get this?" he held up a pilfered bottle of scotch.

"…I could do with at least _you_ sober and on the ball," Simon continued.

Eddie sighed and shook his head.

"I'm tired of being sober," he said.

Simon wasn't sure there was much he could do or say by now. Eddie had been there for nearly 7 months and his _'it's all a dream' _attitude had started to fade. He'd taken his first knock at the death of Lindsay. That was his first inkling that things were not all as heady and innocent as a simple, extended slumber. From there he'd started to feel increasingly alone and depressed. While months ago Simon had seen him enjoying life in a world that he believed to have no consequences he had started to slip into a depressed state. Simon understood that only too well.

"Look, _you_ might as well go home too," he sighed, "but I don't mean to carry on with the drinking, OK? Just… just take the day off to get back on your feet. You need to be on the ball tomorrow."

Eddie got to his feet, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor as he did so.

"Cheers, sir," he mumbled, not meeting Simon's eye and carrying the scotch away with him.

"I said no _drinking_!" Simon called after him but he relented with a sigh, "oh, what's the bloody use?" he mumbled, "one more day of this and I'm going to be joining the highly intoxicated population of Fenchurch East."

"Oh, I do like a nicely pissed-up Simon Shoebury."

Simon glanced up in alarm as Keats came waltzing into the office.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Just come for my usual weekly visit," Keats smiled amiably, "been getting a lot of paperwork done this morning. Could do with a break." 

"How about a broken collar bone?" threatened Simon, "get out."

"Oh come on, that's not very nice, is it?" Keats asked, glancing around., "no sign of Gene today? Finally pickled himself?"

"Out," Simon shoved him into the corridor but despite stumbling a little Keats wasn't going anywhere yet. He straightened his tie and looked at Simon.

"How's your mother, Simon?"

Simon's expression froze. He had absolutely no concept of where that question had come from.

"My mother died years ago," he said coldly.

"Aw, what a shame," Keats smiled, "poor little Simon, growing up without a mum." 

"At least I _had_ a mum, you probably crawled out the bottom of a slop bucket," Simon spat, angered by his bizarre comments.

"Oh, I had a mother," said Keats, "and a father. He's where I get my good looks, you know. Dark hair, dark eyes… all your favourite physical qualities, aren't they?"

"In you, the best physical quality would be a failure to breathe," Simon barked, "out."

He shoved him again and this time he started to walk away, leaving Simon with one last malevolent grin.

"See you around, Simon," he said.

"I'll have a word with security to make sure that doesn't happen," Simon said, watching Keats make his getaway. He'd had as much as he could take for one day. Between Gene and Eddie with their drunken woes and a grinning, cryptic Keats it was not a good day to be sober.

"If only Eddie hadn't nicked that bloody scotch," he muttered. He supposed he was just going to have to get a bloody strong coffee instead.


	6. Chapter 3, 2011: Twitching Fingers

**Chapter 3: 2011**

"…Curtains, ringtones, brands of beer, joggers who wear shorts in the rain, celebrities who have snuffed it, costumes we're not going to wear for Halloween and the _Lighter Later_ campaign for getting the clock shifted round by an extra hour." Robin put down the list and exhaled loudly as Kim drove them to hospital, "something tells me that Alex isn't going to be in the mood to discuss any of these topics." 

"Well they're all we came up with last night," Kim pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," sighed Robin. He flicked his hair out of his eye and laid the list on the dashboard. "I hate this. She's not going to thank us for keeping the important stuff from her, even though I understand why she needs to stay calm for the moment."

"The doctors have got to realise they'll wind her up more by avoiding stuff," Kim pointed out, "surely it won't be that long before we'll be able to tell her everything."

"I hope not," sighed Robin, "I'm terrified I'm going to let something slip like 'When Evan went to jail…' or stroke your hair in the middle of a conversation."

"You'll have a job, I've put so much gel on today my head's like a bloody hedgehog," Kim commented as she pulled into the car park.

They encountered one of her doctors before they went into her room and asked how she was doing.

"She's getting there," he assured them, "she's been through a prolonged comatose state and suffered a brain injury – it's going to be a long and slow process but she's already shown she's a fighter."

"Physically, how's her body holding up?" Robin asked, "I remember when she woke from her coma after the shooting she had some," he closed his eyes for a moment at the worrying memory, "some seizures and some heart issues."

"So far so good," the doctor assured them, "all her vital signs are stable and she's being closely monitored. She had some nausea and sickness this morning, she's most likely suffering withdrawal from the medication but we've got that under control and she's starting to gain some very limited movement. All in all, she's fighting on."

Kim and Robin nodded as the doctor smiled at them and left on his rounds. They hated to admit it but they were almost hoping that she'd taken a turn for the worse overnight and found her way home.

"Why does she have to be so strong and so bloody… kick-ass?" Kim asked.

"Because she's Alex," sighed Robin, "and she's bloody tough – whether she wants to be or not."

~xXx~

Alex had spent a disturbed night trying over and over to work out why the hell she would be back in 2011 when her heart wanted to be elsewhere. She knew that her body had been weakened in 1996 but surely her strength of will should have held her where she was? If there was a reason she was back in the real world then she needed to find it sooner rather than later.

Aside from those worries plaguing her she was also awoken every four hours to have her blood pressure checked with a faulty machine that kept threatening to crush her arm and her temperature taken in an unpleasant orifice. She was getting very tired of the prodding and poking and this was just day one. She knew she needed to get herself mentally and physically strong as quickly as she could because there was no way she could find her way home while she was stuck in the hospital.

She watched the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes until Robin and Kim arrived. She spent the morning practicing moving whatever body parts she was able to. There was nothing dramatic – wiggling her fingers, raising an eyebrow, twitching her toes – but it was a start. She started to practice moving her lips and using her voice and had managed to move quickly from low moans to single words, although each one wore her out and left her breathless. _Time, Alex,_ she told herself. _Must be patient. This will take time._

There were so many questions on her mind. She had so many things to say. She was finding it frustrating, trapped in a barely-working body and desperate to escape her hospital bed. She watched impatiently as the hands of the clock ticked around and finally, around quarter past 2, a couple of slightly nervous looking visitors came into the room. Any hint of Gene's world brought her a little comfort, no matter how small, so seeing their faces again – more clearly than she had with her blurred vision the night before - moved the corners of her mouth slowly into a smile.

"Hi," her voice was raspy and very quiet but at least she could speak now. Both Robin and Kim seemed surprised that her progress had moved on that fast.

"Hey," Robin smiled as he hurried to a chair beside her, "I wasn't expecting to hear you piping up yet." 

"Finding your voice?" asked Kim.

"Little," Alex replied, trying to save her energy for more important things. She looked from one to the other, trying to work out why they both seemed so different. She looked at Kim curiously. When she'd last seen 2011 Kim lying on the ground with a bullet in her neck she'd looked very different from head to toe. Back then she'd worn her hair in long dark tresses, swathed her body in black material and smothered her face with a ton of gothic make-up. The Kim jumping into a chair beside her bed was a very different Kim.

In all honestly she could have stepped right out of 1996. Back was the short, bleach-blonde spikes and the natural face, the tiniest hint of a sparkle on her eyelids that barely showed. Alex was pleased to see that, if she was honest. Kim had never needed to hide behind the long dark hair or the make-up she'd worn like a mask, she looked so natural and pretty without it. She was back to her boyish clothes in lighter tones; the pale blue jeans and denim waistcoat that sat atop a shirt that she may well have pilfered from Robin's wardrobe were definitely more of the Kim Alex knew in the nineties.

But it was her expression that showed the greatest change. Alex couldn't quite put her finger on what it was but there seemed to be an air of freedom about her. The Kim she'd met in 2011 months ago had been trapped in a prison of her experience of going back to the nineties. Now she had shaken away those binds and felt so much freer, it showed upon her face.

"We did bring you some grapes," Robin began.

"But someone dropped them in the car park, Kim concluded, leaving Robin to blush awkwardly.

"It wasn't my fault, that bike came out of nowhere." 

"It was a child on a tricycle!"

"It was a bloody _big_ tricycle!"

Alex's eyes turned to Robin as he protested about the size of the offending vehicle. If anything the changes in Robin had been even more remarkable. She couldn't quite explain what it was but he seemed to have simply taken on a more fashionable appearance all over. She was pretty sure that shirt was designer, and the dark jeans were very different to the clothes she'd seen him wear when she'd gone to him for help all those months before. His hair was sleek and gelled as it fell forward over one eye and on the other side of his face –

"_P-Pierced?"_ Alex could only stutter out the word, staring in shock as she noticed the eyebrow piercing her blurry vision had missed the day before.

Robin reached up a little shyly and touched the bar through his eyebrow, a slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

"Oh, I know," he said with a little laugh, "Kim did it for me."

Alex looked from one to the other, her brow furrowed into a frown

"Lose…. Bet?" she asked quietly.

"No, believe it or not he asked me to do it," Kim assured her.

But again it was Robin's expression that seemed so different to Alex. Many months ago his face was laden with the pain and loss that losing Simon had brought to him. But he seemed so bright and positive, she could hardly believe he was the same man.

"Date?" she asked quietly.

Robin and Kim exchanged a look of horror which bemused Alex as they both started protesting,

"_What date? I've not been on any dates –"_

"Month?" Alex asked, "year?"

Robin bit his lip as a pink glow spread across his cheeks.

"Oh," he said awkwardly, "Oh, right, sorry… I understand…"

"It's late October," said Kim, "I think it's the twenty ninth today… Rob?"

"Robin nodded.

"Yeah, your course starts on Halloween," he pointed out.

"Oh great, am I going to have to talk ghosts out of holding pumpkins hostage?" Kim asked.

"Some of the stuff we've seen lately, I wouldn't be surprised," said Robin.

Alex closed her eyes for a moment. The end of October? So about eight months or so had passed since she was last in the real world. She tried to take in as much information as she could.

"Molly?" she asked, wondering why her daughter hadn't been allowed in yet.

"The doctors say she can come in tomorrow morning as long as you're coping OK," Robin told her.

That made Alex smile. Despite the guilt she felt about choosing Gene over Molly her need to see her daughter now she was back in 2011 was overwhelming. She didn't know what she was going to say to her when she arrived but she needed to see her. She wanted to see her smile again. Look her in the eye. To be her mother again.

"Evan?" she asked.

There was a strange look of panic that passed between Kim and Robin as they tried to think of something to say to take Alex's mind away from that topic. Eventually Kim said quietly,

"Try not to over-exert yourself, Ma'am, rest as much as you can. Plenty of time for questions tomorrow."

Alex was still too tired to think too strangely of that exchange. And after the events of the rooftop she really didn't care that much about how Evan was doing now she thought about it. A quick moment of panic struck her though as her earlier fears about Evan and laser removal surgery came flooding back to her.

"Tattoo?" she whispered, "tattoo…?"

"Robin and Kim weren't sure what she meant at first until Kim noticed her fingers twitching near where her tattoo that replicatied the area of her scar was.

"_Oh,"_ she said, enlightened, "it's there, Alex. It healed beautifully.

"I made sure they kept it clean and moisturised," Robin interjected.

"Rob's become a bit of an expert on tattoo aftercare," Kim commented.

"Be warned, Alex, it really is addictive," Robin commented, his tattoos hidden by his shirt.

Alex's fingers were still twitching by her side.

"See it," she said with as much determination as she could.

"Your tattoo?" Kim asked.

"Mmm," Alex said In agreement.

Kim leaned forward.

"I'm not sure you can see from this angle," she said, "and I'm scared of trying to adjust your bed… last time I was in hospital I almost managed to fold myself up in the mattress…" she pulled back a part of Alex's gown, covering her lower body with the sheets and revealed the tattoo. "There is it," she said, realising that Alex couldn't see it she lifted her hand for her and ran one of her fingers across the surface of her skin. The tiny change in skin tone where the skin had been coloured with ink was just about detectable to her fingertip and a look of relief came over her face.

"Thanks," she whispered.

At least that was something. She might not have the scar but she had the tattoo that marked what it meant to her.

She felt herself growing tired already. _Damnit._ Her bloody body was sabotaging her whole plan of practicing her speech and movement. She supposed that she just had to start off slowly. She would get there in the end.

She was quite happy to take a backseat for a while and let Robin and Kim talk away, even though they seemed to want to talk about some very strange things. She was sure that she was hallucinating at one point when they were saying some rather unpleasant things about places mud can get when joggers go jogging in the rain and something about Heineken-flavoured curtains. Or that could have been two separate discussions, she wasn't altogether sure. Eventually they could see her eyes were struggling to stay open and they decided she needed to get some rest so they got to their feet and bid her farewell for the day.

"Tomorrow?" she asked.

"We'll be back in the afternoon," Robin told her

Alex hesitated.

"Notebook?" she asked hopefully.

Kim couldn't resist a smile.

"I'll see what I can do," she said.

They smiled and waved as they made their exit from the room, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Wasn't quite as sticky as I thought it was going to be," said Kim.

"Only because she's still on the one-word questions," said Robin, "and one of them had to be '_Evan?'_ didn't it?"

Kim sighed as she leaned against the wall.

"Can't raise her hand yet but wants a notebook," she commented, "same old Alex."

Robin looked a little concerned. He slumped back against the opposite wall and said in hushed tones,

"When you showed Alex her tattoo –"

"Hmm?"

"She looked a bit swollen," he said awkwardly, worried he was going to sound critical, "her stomach. Just struck me as odd, the rest of her's so frail."

"Do you think we should mention it to the doctor?" Kim asked, Robin 's concern rubbing off on her.

"Maybe," said Robin.

"Well here's your chance," Kim pointed as one of Alex's doctors started to walk towards them.

Robin nodded. He didn't want to sound like a worrywart but he didn't want anything to happen to Alex. He caught the doctor's attention and they walked quickly towards him.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?" The doctor said.

"Uh," he looked a little awkward, "we didn't know whether to say anything or not… there's something that we noticed about Alex, just thought we should mention it."

"Hmm?"

"She seems really swollen around her stomach," Robin felt a little like a snitch, telling on her for something, even though he knew that was silly, "I don't know if there's something wrong."

"It's not unusual for a patient to retain fluid, especially with all the medication changes she's going through," the doctor reassured him, "I'll examine her and make sure everything is alright." He paused, "Actually, I'm glad I've got the chance to talk to you. We spoke a couple of months back about Alex's next of kin. Her lack of it."

"Yes?"

"Now she's regained consciousness it's becoming more important to plan the best way for her care to continue when she is strong enough to leave hospital," the doctor told them, "as we discussed before we had not become aware of any family, and wondered if perhaps you had been able to find out…?"

Robin shook his head.

"No," he said quietly, "I'm sorry. She doesn't have any surviving family." 

The doctor nodded slowly.

"I see," he said quietly, "we will have to look at some long term care strategies for her until she is strong enough to take care of herself."

Robin's heart sank. That didn't sound like the sort of thing that Alex would be able to stand.

"Poor thing," he said quietly.

The doctor set off on the rest of his rounds leaving a reflective Robin and Kim to contemplate Alex trying to adjust to life in 2011 in some sort of long term rehabilitation situation. She would go crazy and they both knew it.

"Why the hell didn't nineteen ninety six grab hold of her and hold on to her for all it was worth?" Kim asked, "Alex does _not_ belong here. Not any more."


	7. Chapter 3, 1996: Potted Pals

**Chapter 3: 1996**

"_Gene!"_

The word bore through his ringing head like a pneumatic drill. He wasn't sure he wanted to open his eyes, wasn't sure where he was or even _who_ he was and certainly wasn't sure that he wanted to see the look on the face of the person who'd said his name with such frustration. Finally he relented, opened one eye and turned around.

"Morning," he mumbled, his tongue as dry as Keats's litter tray.

"What the hell is all this?" cried Simon, "The Super sent you home yesterday to clean up and _sober_ up!"

"Definitely not pissed enough now if that's any consolation," Gene mumbled, slowly righting himself, "where am I?"

"Between two large decorative plants in the car park," Simon told him crossly, "where the CCTV caught you hugging one and telling the other it was your best friend in the whole wide world."

"Woken up in worse places," Gene muttered.

"You had better hope and pray that the Super hasn't seen that footage," Simon told him angrily.

"Sadly Gene is not a praying man," Fletcher's voice wasn't what Simon wanted to hear right then. He closed his eyes and sighed, infinitely more anxious about his arrival than Gene was.

"Sir," he began, getting to his feet and addressing him worriedly, "I was just trying to help Gene up –"

"He's had plenty of help, DCI Shoebury," the Super told him, "it's time he took responsibility for himself." He turned to Gene. "If you're not in my office in ten minutes I'll assume you've decided to leave Fenchurch East and make a new life for yourself with a couple of plant pots."

Gene stared after him as he walked crossly into the building. He half-pulled a face, gave him a two fingered salute and reached for his flask.

"Nice to see you too, sir," he mumbled, finding his flask had been drained dry already, "bugger."

"Get up," Simon demanded. He wasn't used to this, he didn't like this, This wasn't the natural order of things. He was a whisker away from finding a filing cabinet to give Gene the unusual treatment that he would inflict upon others. He grabbed his wrist and tried to yank him up from the ground but Gene wasn't a willing participant and purposely made himself into a dead weight so Simon would have to let go and give up. He took a step back and held up his hands. "Fine. I don't care any more, Gene. Do what you want. Ruin your life and ruin this station. Much more of this and you're going to end up shagging Keats and living in the basement at Fenchurch West."

He turned around crossly and started to march into the building through the furthest possible entrance to give himself time to cool off. He hadn't meant all of what he'd said – he knew he wasn't going to leave Gene stewing in his own alcoholic juices when Fletcher unleashed whatever punishment upon him that was about to emerge but he'd had enough of following him around like a bloody maid; covering up for him, trying to smooth things over. He knew what Gene was going through hell – he'd been there too – but he also knew where that spiral could lead. While he didn't think for one moment Gene was really going to find himself in the throes of passion with one Jim Keats he could see him going into a steady decline that could see him making bad choices and ending up knocking someone's block off or – worse – getting into his car blind drunk and knocking someone over.

He hoped that whatever Fletcher was going to say to him would make a difference but he doubted it somehow. Gene was not a man to listen to anyone – unless, of course, their name happened to be Alex.

~xXx~

"Sit down, Hunt," Fletcher barked.

"Which chair?" Gene mumbled as several loomed around him, his vision way beyond double and into multiple copies by now.

"On the floor if you have to, I don't care." Fletcher watched as he managed to slowly locate the real chair and park his posterior upon it.

"So what are you going to advise me this time?" Gene asked, "cold shower? Clean duvet? Other crap that's not going to be a substitute for -" he stopped talking. He couldn't even bring himself to say Alex's name by now. It hurt too much.

"No, Gene," Fletcher started to fill out a form, "I'm sending you on a sabbatical."

Gene frowned.

"A batty what?"

Fletcher ignored him.

"You've got one month to pull yourself together, he said, "I'll arrange for you to see the occupational therapist –"

"Thera-_pissed off_, more like," Gene thundered.

"And at the end of that month if you are clean, sober and ready to get back into your job then CID will still be waiting here with open arms."

"Not Shoebury's I hope, not that way inclined," Gene mumbled.

"But if you can't show that you are ready to come back and that you're in a better frame of mind then we'll have no choice but to let you go."

Gene started at him. Surely this man wasn't suggesting that he was going to give him the sack?

"This is my bloody world, Fletcher!" he growled.

"That you're letting fall apart around you!" cried Fletcher, "how long until you start seeing stars, Gene? How long until Keats comes around to pick off the best of whatever's left? This station is going to the dogs."

"Never worked in canine division," said Gene but Fletcher was in no mood for his lip.

"One months' time today I want to see you back in my office, clean shaven, no trace of alcohol on your breath and ready to take on the world again. If you can't do that then your P45 will be waiting. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Sir," Gene spat angrily.

"Now get out and go home," Fletcher demanded, "and if I see you in this station again before the month is up you're going to be wearing one of those ornamental plants up your backside and the pot over your head. And that's a warning."

~xXx~

Simon almost didn't dare ask. As he hovered at the door and saw Gene packing a few items – most of which were bottles of scotch - into a box he feared the worst.

"Gene?" he said nervously.

Gene glanced over his shoulder.

"Didn't you wash yer hands of me about an hour ago, Shoe-Boy?" he muttered.

Simon looked down.

"I didn't mean it," he said quietly, "I'm worried about you." he paused, "what happened with Fletcher."

"Been put on a sabbatical" Gene said gruffly, feeling about as embarrassed as was humanly possible, "how's that for girly, poofy treatment? Wants me to see an occult therapist too."

"Occupational," Simon corrected.

Gene hesitated.

"That would make more sense," he agreed, "otherwise I might as well just turn into Jimbo."

Simon gave a deep sigh and walked towards Gene.

"I think it might be for the best," he said quietly, "get away from here for a while. Just spend some time at home."

"Told you already I don't have one of those," said Gene.

"Don't be stupid," sighed Simon.

"I'm not being stupid," said Gene, "stupid was me not paying the rent for three months."

Simon closed his eyes as Gene's situation began to make a little more sense.

"Oh God, Gene," he sighed, "how long have you been…?"

"Living like an 'obo?" Gene asked.

It took Simon a few moments to realise he meant hobo, not oboe.

"Yeah."

"Gene sighed and sank into a chair.

"Two months. Give or take."

Simon groaned and sat down opposite.

"God, Gene. Why didn't you say something?"

Gene reached for one of his bottles.

"Say what? _Oh woe is me?"_

"I could have helped you," Simon told him, "if you needed money –"

"I had the money. Just couldn't stand the flat. Not without her there."

Simon nodded slowly. That made more sense.

"What happened to all your stuff?" he asked, "And Alex's?"

"In storage."

"Well, that's something, I suppose," Simon knew where this was heading. He couldn't see Hene on the street. It wasn't as though he hadn't given up his sofa in the past. "Alright. Finish packing up your alcoholic supplies and I'll get you sorted on the couch. It's yours as long as you want it. It's been lonely since Kim left."

"I don't need yer charity."

"If it was charity I wouldn't be about to ask you for rent," Simon told him. He almost laughed at the killer glare Gene gave him. "You did say you had the money!"

Gene took a deep breath and slowly nodded.

"Fine," he said, "but no X-Files marathons."

"Deal."

"And no Red Dwarf ones either."

Simon hesitated. He wasn't ready to agree to that just yet.

"We'll see," he mumbled eventually. He paused. "But there's a condition."

"I don't have any pets and I failed at taking up smoking again," Gene told him.

"No," Simon sighed, "you straighten yourself out. And I mean it. You've been given plenty of chances. It's been months now and you can't go on this way. The couch is yours for as long as you need it but lay off the scotch."

"You might as well tell me not to breathe."

"One or two is fine. Glasses, not bottles. I don't want your breath stripping the paint off my walls."

Gene mumbled a half-hearted word of agreement.

"Any other rules?" he asked.

"Yes," said Simon, "no small talk. Last time we tried that we almost ended up in a fist fight."

Gene nodded.

"Good rule," he agreed.

Simon shook his head slightly as he watched Gene opening the desk drawers and removing anything he didn't want to leave there while he was away. How had things come to this?

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Almost."

Simon stood up.

"I'll get my car," he said.

"Don't need a car, it's only down the road," Gene muttered.

"Yeah, and with you weaving from one side to the other it'll take you all day to get there," said Simon, "I'm getting the car."

Gene was too tired to argue, both mentally and physically. He really could use a good night's sleep in a proper bed – or at least a couch. The plant pots might have been his best friends at stupid o'clock in the morning but they weren't the most comfortable of bedfellows.

"Fine," he muttered, trying not to show Simon how much he appreciated the gesture.

He watched Simon leave then leaned back in his chair. It would be a while before he'd sit there again, but he really didn't care. What was the good of sitting there when he wasn't constantly watching for Alex to move through CID towards the door with a smile? Maybe getting out the station for a while was the best thing that he could do after all.

"What the bloody hell are you doing right now, Bolly?" he wondered as he stared into his box of belongings. Whatever she was doing, he hoped to high heaven that two thousand and bollocks was treating her well.


	8. Chapter 4, 2011: Something Inside

**Chapter 4: 2011**

Oh _why_ did she have to dream so vividly? Alex cursed herself for that as she awoke, realising she was no longer in bed beside Gene in her familiar 1996 home. She felt empty and alone as she tried to push away the memory of the dream. She was even glad of the doctor's arrival. God, she _must_ be feeling lonely.

"Good morning, Alex," he smiled, "how are we today?"

Alex almost made a rude comment about only being able to speak for herself but decided to be pleasant. The nicer she was, the more chance there was of being allowed to see Molly that day.

"OK," she said quietly.

The doctor picked up her chart and looked over the night's temperature and blood pressure statistics.

"Good," he muttered as he made a note, "any more nausea?"

"A little," Alex said quietly. She was starting to master the art of short sentences although they were fairly slurred and quiet, but at least she was getting there.

"Well, we'll see what we can do to help you with that shortly," the doctor told her as he set down her chart, "now, I just need to check a few things to make sure your recovery is progressing well, OK?"

"OK," Alex repeated.

He felt her glands and took her pulse, making a couple of general notes before he drew down her covers and lifted her gown slightly.

"Hmm," he murmured as he gently pressed against her abdomen He eyed her. "Do you have any pain or tenderness here?" 

Alex shook her head a little.

"No," she said.

"Here?" he moved his hands slightly and Alex flinched a little.

"Not pain," she said, "pressure."

"OK," the doctor seemed deep in thought as he continued to palpate her abdomen and finally pulled the sheets back up over her. He seemed a little awkward. "I'm going to ask the nurse to come in and draw some blood shortly. We just need to keep an eye on how things are going, alright?"

Alex nodded slightly.

"Anything wrong?" she asked, slightly worried.

"I'm sure everything's fine," the doctor's smile did little to reassure her but she tried to put her paranoia out of her mind.

"My daughter," she said quietly, "When can I –" she trailed off as she started to feel tired and couldn't quite get the end of her sentence out. The doctor seemed to understand anyway.

"She'll be coming in later this morning," he assured her, "start with a short visit and build up from there – I am sure you're anxious to see her, as she is to see you, but we need to make sure you stay as calm and relaxed as possible." He smiled and walked to the door. "The nurse will be along shortly to take those samples."

Alex sighed and closed her eyes as he left. Staying calm and relaxed wasn't easy when she spent the whole time being prodded and poked. She hoped this latest set of blood tests were going to be over quickly so she could concentrate on Molly. She had no idea what she was going to say to the daughter that she hadn't seen in so long. It wasn't going to be an easy meeting, she was sure of that.

~xXx~

Molly couldn't remember ever feeling so scared. That included being tied up by an evil Keats/Layton hybrid on a barge. All she could think about was the last time her mother woke up. The last time she'd come out of her coma and had no idea who Molly was. The girl had been through several years of hell, first of all living with her mother in a coma, then experiencing the joy of her waking up only to have forgotten all about her, then her godfather was arrested and finally she found herself kidnapped. As though those things were not bad enough she had learned certain things about her mother; half-facts that she was unable to piece together, and no one was willing to fill in the gaps.

She was hoping she would finally get some answers but as soon as she saw her mother's pale face and tired eyes she knew they would have to wait for a while. As long as she remembered her this time, that was all Molly needed for now.

"Mum?" she said awkwardly, clutching a bunch of flowers so hard that several of them were half dead already. She anxiously awaited Alex's reply or the look in her eye, just hoping for a flicker of recognition. The smile that she gave along with the whispered, _"Mols,"_ was all that she needed.

That was her cue. The worry and anxiety faded away and she flew at her mother, threw her arms around her and squeezed her tightly.

"Mum," she cried, "is it really you?"

"Well, it's not Prince Charles," Alex said quietly, her voice still weak.

Molly drew back and looked at her awkwardly. Her question had been deadly serious. Whoever Alex had been the last time she awoke, she was not her mother. She decided not to press that for now though and showed her the flowers.

"I brought these," she said, "they're from Marion's garden. She's my…" she trailed off, unsure whether she was allowed to talk about being fostered. Did it come under the list of shocks? "she's been looking after me while you've been… in here."

"They're beautiful," Alex said quietly, the smile never fading from her lips. Oh, the guilt was there too, she wasn't going to deny that. She would feel that guilt every single day for choosing Gene over her own flesh and blood. But the love and warmth that she felt for Molly warned every inch of her inside and out.

"I've got so much to tell you," Molly began, then hesitated as she remembered again the 'no shocks' warning, "…err, when you're stronger."

Alex frowned.

"People keep saying that," she mumbled.

Molly stared at her mother, hardly able to believe that she was awake, and that this time she really was _her,_ the Alex Drake that Molly had known all her life. There was no sign of a '_who's Molly?_' or an_ 'I don't have a daughter' _– there was no coldness or hesitation in her hug and her smile. Finally, after so many long months and years, she had her mother back. That was a feeling that she couldn't beat.

~xXx~

"I know what you're thinking."

Robin glanced at Kim as he drove along.

"How?" he asked.

"Because I'm thinking it too," said Kim.

Alex's care situation had been playing on both their minds all night long. As much of a twat as Evan was, at least his vast beard fortune and large house would have provided ample care for her. Neither could stand the thought of her entering some sort of generic rehabilitation unit when her situation was so damn complicated. Strangers were not what Alex needed. She needed all the familiarity she could get.

"The dining room study," Robin began, "we never use it. We could get a sofa bed."

Kim gave a slow nod but her expression was anxious.

"But what about the –"

"Stairs," Robin finished for her with a sigh, "I know. I know, I've gone over and over this." He rubbed his head as they stopped at the traffic lights. "I've tried to work out how able and fit she'll have to be to manage them. She managed them OK when she stayed there after escaping from Evan's."

"We don't know how fast she's going to recover this time," Kim reminded him.

"I know."

Kim sighed.

"We could try winching her up and down," she suggested.

"Oh yeah, very civilised," Robin glanced at her as she laughed a little. He sighed and shook his head. "We'll keep thinking. Maybe there's a way." 

"Maybe she's just so bloody stubborn she'll master stairs before we know it," said Kim.

"That would not surprise me," said Robin.

They arrived at the hospital and parked, then started walking towards the doorway. As they entered the building Kim started to look a little awkward and uncomfortable.

"Shit… just got to go to the loo."

"Thanks for sharing that," Robin frowned.

"Sorry," Kim said awkwardly, "you carry on to her room, I'll be there in a minute."

Robin looked a little concerned.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

Kim nodded, her head down. She didn't want to explain that she'd just come on early. She didn't want to focus on disappointment when they were supposed to be there for Alex. What was the phrase… _trying but not trying. Letting nature take its course. _Bollocks they were. Just because they didn't talk about it in the open didn't mean they weren't hoping. Robin could see from the look on her face that something was the matter and it didn't take much for the truth to dawn on him. He felt his spirits deflating.

"Shit," he whispered. He saw her head droop lower, "sorry, Kim." His hand reached instinctively to rub her back. "Next time. Next time, it'll be our month."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, not even sure what she was apologising for. Her eyes closed for a moment and the comforting feeling of Robin's lips leaving a kiss on the top of her head brought the tiniest hint of a smile back to her face. She looked up and brushed his fringe out of his eye for him. "I'd really better –" she pointed towards the toilets and he nodded.

"I'll see you in her room shortly," he said quietly, feeling a little awkward.

He sighed as he started to walk away. He didn't really know what to say to her. He wasn't very good at this, it was all a bit new to him, and he was trying to cover for the fact that he found it even harder than she did. He hated being more sensitive than Kim. It made him feel silly sometimes. He was the one who'd cry at a sad film while Kim would sit there looking at him as though he'd gone crazy. Well, by '_sad film'_ he really meant '_emotional episodes of the X Files'_ but it was the same principle.

He found himself at Alex's room and peered around the door where he found her propped up a little in bed. Her expression was different to the day before, there was a sense of peace about her.

"Hey you," he smiled, "you're looking brighter today.

"I saw Molly," she said quietly.

Robin felt a little anxious. He was only to aware of how Molly felt after her own mother had ceased to recall her during Alex's previous spell in the real world.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Really well," Alex told him. He noted that she seemed to be speaking a little more easily and without growing tired right away, but she was having a little trouble forming the words. They seemed to slur as though she wasn't quite used to using her mouth again yet. He knew she was doing well and he progress was already exceeding expectations so he tried not to worry too much about that. He sat down beside her and asked,

"How's the finger-twitching today?"

Alex looked a little downhearted.

"I can move my hands a little," she ran her hand slightly back and forth to demonstrate, "but… can't lift them. Stupid arms."

"Give it time," Robin told her, "you're still doing well." Her leaned back and looked at her. "Kim won't be long. She's just in the ladies'."

Alex frowned curiously as Robin scratched his nose.

"What that?" she asked, "on your hand?"

Robin took his hand away and looked. A streak of brown ran down half its length.

"Oh," he said, a little embarrassed, "gravy. Sorry," he tried to scrub it away with his thumb, "had a roast before we came in."

_Oh,_ a roast sounded good right then. In fact, _any_ food sounded good to Alex. The_ Nil By Mouth _label was not one that pleased her at the best of times. When were they going to let her have proper solid food again? She was starting to fantasize about roast potatoes dancing across the ceiling as Robin went on to list the components of his roast. She thought she felt her stomach rumble but didn't hear anything so decided it must have been her imagination.

Her attention turned back to his hand as he finished removing the gravy mark and with a look of curiosity she observed,

"You're not wearing your ring?"

Robin glanced sown at his hand and felt his heart give a thump suddenly. It had been a good couple of months since he'd make the decision to take off Simon's ring and to live his life with Kim, for however long they had until the other world pulled them apart. In the first couple of weeks he felt very strange without it but as time had passed he hadn't even thought about it in a while. He swallowed nervously as he glanced from his hand to Alex and back again.

"Uh, yeah," he said quietly, not sure what to say.

Alex was confused by both his reaction and the fact that he'd stopped wearing the ring. She couldn't understand why he'd have done that, unless –

"You've met someone?" she asked, more as a statement than a question. Robin tried to keep his face calm and neutral but the burning glow that spread across his cheeks betrayed him.

"Wh-why would you think that?" he asked awkwardly.

Alex hesitated.

"You have," she said, smiling slightly nervously, "thought there was something…" she paused and caught her breath, "different about you. Happier."

She watched him look down, desperately trying to fight the smile upon his face. He was caught directly between his guilt about Simon and the joy he'd found. He tried to make his face neutral again but it didn't quite work.

"Let's not talk about me right now," he said quietly.

"Who is it?" Alex asked, completely ignoring his request, "what's his name?"

Robin wanted to melt through the floor and escape to another room. He wasn't good at bluffing. He didn't know what to say. As far as he was aware, shocks were still as much off the menu for Alex as roast dinners were so he knew his relationship with Kim had to remain a secret for now but he wasn't sure how he was going to get out of this one.

"It's, uh, early days," he said quietly, "so let's just drop it."

"Only asked his name," Alex said, a little put out, but right then a blonde hair-covered head poked itself around the door and Robin jumped a mile.

"Kim," he said quickly. He coughed and tried to calm himself down, "glad you made it…"

Kim looked a little confused.

"Yes, that whole… _ear, nose and throat_ corridor can really scupper your chances of making it all the way here but I still negotiated it somehow," she said.

"Alex is talking," Robin said with a fixed smile through gritted teeth, "…_a lot."_

Kim bit her lip.

"Ahh," she said.

"Slowly though," Alex told her. She paused. "My notebook?"

"Bollocks, knew I forgot something," Kim cursed.

"We'll bring one in after work this week," Robin promised.

"Bloody course starts tomorrow," said Kim, "so I might not be in until Tuesday."

"I can bring one tomorrow," said Robin as a knock sounded at the door. They all looked around to see a doctor standing there, with a nurse and a trolley just behind him.

"Alex," the doctor said pleasantly, just got to ask your guests to leave for a minute. Time for your bed bath."

Alex scowled. If there was one thing that she hated with a vengeance it was bed baths.

"Great," she mumbled.

"I'll bring them straight back afterwards," the doctor assured her, standing back to let the nurse in and the guests out.

Robin and Kim glanced at each other a little awkwardly. Something didn't quiet feel right about this, but they couldn't put their finger on what it was. They got to their feet and walked out, preparing to head down to the waiting room but they'd gone no more than a few paces when the doctor called them back.

"Excuse me?"

They stopped and glanced around.

"Hmm?" Kim said.

The doctor appeared anxious.

"May I have a word?"

They looked at each other again, this time feeling more certain than before that something was wrong.

"Uh… sure," said Kim.

The doctor opened the door to a side room and switched on the light.

"Just in here," he said as they walked inside.

Now away from Alex's view they found themselves holding hands for comfort, both felting sure that something was terribly wrong.

"What is it, doctor?" Robin asked, "I thought Alex was recovering well."

"She is, she is," the doctor nodded, "in terms of her recovery she's making excellent progress." He seemed to hesitate and he struggled for words. He wasn't sure what to say. "Yesterday you brought my attention to her swollen abdomen," he began eventually.

"Yes?"

The doctor took a deep breath and rocked on his heels.

"I examined her earlier this morning and we also took some blood samples to confirm it."

A dark feeling came over them both.

"To confirm what?" Kim whispered.

The doctor swallowed.

"There's no easy way of saying this," he began, "Alex is pregnant."

Two blank faces stared at him. Robin and Kim couldn't have been more shocked if he'd told them that she was slowly turning into an elephant. There were a few moments of silence that felt as though they went on forever and finally Kim managed to croak out,

"Sorry?"

The doctor let out his breath slowly and started to fidget on the spot. He had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

"When I examined her I could feel her uterus emerging over her pubic bone," he explained, "which would make her at least twelve weeks. We tested her blood and her urine and there is absolutely no doubt about it. Alex is pregnant."

Robin couldn't seem to convince his mouth to say anything. He struggled for words, finally managing to stammer,

"B-but… she's been in a coma."

"Which is what makes this so difficult," the doctor cleared his throat, "Without giving her a scan it's impossible to pinpoint exactly how far into her pregnancy Alex is but my estimate is between twelve and fourteen weeks. She's been comatose for almost eight months, which means that…" he trailed off. He didn't want to spell it out. "The police are involved. We had to call them this morning."

"You think someone…" Kim couldn't quite bring herself to finish that sentence.

"Alex is still in a very delicate stage of recovery and it's still important to keep stress to a minimum," the doctor told them, "but clearly this is a matter of great importance and we will explain to her the situation as delicately as we can. With her permission we'll conduct a prenatal DNA test."

"W-what… how… how does that work?" Robin rubbed his head, trying to fathom out what on earth was going on.

"We use a procedure called Chorionic Villus Sampling to take a sample of cells from the placenta," he began, "we'll be taking swabs from everyone who has been closely involved with Alex's care in the hospital to look for a DNA match." He hesitated, looking extremely awkward, "and that goes for visitors too." He looked directly at Robin.

It took Robin a couples of seconds to work out exactly what the doctor was trying to say. His mouth fell open and he took a step back.

"You're not seriously telling me you think that I… With Alex? In her room? Bloody comatose?"

"This is a very serious situation," the doctor reminded him, "and you've been the only male visitor she's had since her godfather was sent to prison."

"This is bullshit!" cried Robin.

"No one is accusing you," the doctor reminded him, "we need to test you to rule you out as much as anything."

"This is ridiculous, we've been in there together every single time," cried Kim, "what do you think, he was going at it in bed with her and I was standing by, holding a camera to capture the moment?"

"A comatose patient mysteriously falls pregnant in her hospital bed," the doctor said crossly, "we have a responsibility both legally and morally to do everything that we can to find out who could have possibly done this to jhr. You're both officers yourselves, you surely understand this better than anyone." He watched them look down a little as they thought about his words. Yesm of course the hospital had to take this step. If Robin or Kim had been called in to investigate an incident like this then they would have recommended the exact same course of action. But the thought that someone suspected he might have done such a terrible thing still made Robin's blood boil.

"And what if you can't find a match?" he asked dryly.

"Well, we'll extend the DNA testing through the rest of the hospital," the doctor explained, "staff, volunteers… beyond that, it would be a case of sweeping the national database for a match. But we need to find out who did this somehow."

"Fuck," Kim closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to take it in.

The doctor looked at them a little guiltily. He no more thought Robin would be responsible than anyone but his hands were tied.

"I'll leave you alone for a moment," he said quietly, "I'm sure Alex's bed bath will be over shortly and you can finish your visit. But I'd ask you not to mention this to her. This needs to be handled with tact and respect.

"Not sure you've done a very good job with that so far," Robin mumbled as the doctor left the room. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Fuck, Kim – what the hell –"

Kim looked at Robin seriously.

"They're not going to find a match," she said quietly. Robin looked at her questioningly. "Don't you remember when we both had bleedthroughs of Alex?" she reminded him of a quite disturbing experience they'd both had some months ago, "I told you at the time, I could feel what Alex was feeling. I said her body…. Her symptoms… it felt like she was pregnant." 

"And when it happened to me I ended up with my head down the toilet," Robin recalled. He nodded slowly, "Shit, yes, I remember." He stared Kim in the eye, "But how… I mean, it isn't possible... is it? It can't be?" he threw his hands in the air and started to pace up and down. "I mean, physical _things_ can't swap between worlds… it's not like her scar came and took the place of her tattoo or something."

"We both know how closely the worlds have been coming together, Rob," Kim reminded him, "we said goodbye because we thought one of us was going to be torn away at any moment. We've had so many flashes and dreams and voices…"

"But this is different…"

"I know," Kim nodded, "I know, but this is _Alex_… she's the woman that was real in two different places… two different times. No one else ever did that. She's unique. If it could happen to anyone…"

Robin swallowed.

"Then it would be her," he whispered.

Kim laid her hand on his arm and looked at him seriously.

"No one's going to go and shag a half-dead body in an ICU ward," she said, "Alex's security has been top-notch after Keats tried to kill her. No one would have been able to get away with it." She paused, "This is Gene's baby. She's having Gene's baby, and they're never going to find the mystery patient-shagger because there's no such person. The father of her baby exists in a whole different world." 

Robin closed his eyes.

_"Shit,"_ he exhaled loudly. They fell silent for several moments, trying to take in what they'd been told before Robin finally said, "we can't leave it to that numpty doctor to break the news. He wants to avoid stressing her, it's got to come from us. Someone who knows."

"I agree," said Kim.

They looked at each other, both feeing anxious and torn up inside.

"We'd better to it now," Robin said quietly.

Kim nodded slowly.

"OK," she whispered.

They both felt as though they were being led to the gallows as they left the room and walked slowly back to find Alex. The nurse had finished and was wheeling her bed bath equipment away as they entered the room.

"Why?" Alex moaned, "why always… bedbaths?"

Robin and Kim exchanged a nervous glance and a strained smile.

"Alex?" Kim began quietly. Alex looked at her curiously. Kim usually called her Ma'am out of habit. Hearing her call her by her name seemed strange.

"Hmm?"

Kim sat down beside her and leaned slightly forward while Robin sank nervously beside her.

"Can we ask you something?"

Alex began to feel a little nervous.

"Yes?" she said quietly.

Kim bit her lip.

"When you… woke up," she paused, "how did you leave Gene's world?"

The speed at which Alex's expression dropped was nothing short of heart-breaking. Kim immediately felt guilty for asking such a question, but she knew it was important. They had to know. She watched Alex swallow hard. She'd been doing a very good job of avoiding thinking about her exit from the world.

"Siege," she said quietly, "in the car park."

Kim immediately bristled slightly. Incidents in the car park of Fenchurch East were a little too close to home for her.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Man with a gun," Alex whispered as they could see tears slowly forming in her eyes, "wife committed suicide. He blamed the police." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "She was a rape victim." She swallowed and tried to place the details, her speech becoming more staggered with every sentence. "Talked to him. He was… calming down. Going to hand over his gun." She looked at them once again. "someone… yelled. He panicked." She shook her head a tiny bit. "Threw the gun in my hands. Knocked me over. I… I hit the ground…" her final moments in the world played through her mind like a movie on the big screen and her voice was broken with a sob as tears started to fall. "The pain… _so_ bad. Then a light…" she closed her eyes for a moment and took several deep breaths as she pulled together her courage. There was something she needed to tell them, something she was finding so hard to come to terms with losing. Something that she knew had sealed her fate. "It… the fall wasn't bad, but…" she gulped down a deep breath, "my body… was weak there…" she looked at them as the tears started to fall faster, "I was pregnant," she whispered, "wasn't planned, but… I… I think we were happy… we _were_ happy…" she closed her eyes again as her sobs grew louder, "Oh god… we were having a baby… woke up here and lost it all. Gene, the baby, my life..." Her eyes opened as one last angry sob burst forth from within her. "I was _pregnant!"_

Robin and Kim stared on, their hearts racing. Robin didn't care if Alex saw or what she thought - he needed the extra confidence as his had grabbed Kim's and held it tightly. Looking to her for confirmation, she nodded. He took a deep breath and looked at Alex, then whispered three words that changed everything for her.

"_You still are." _


	9. Chapter 4, 1996: Arresting Words

**Chapter 4: 1996**

"That should be everything you need," Simon dropped the pile of bedding beside the sofa and rubbed his head. "Will you be alright?"

'_Alright'_ was something Gene he wouldn't be. But he wasn't going to go crazy or lose the plot for sleeping on Simon's couch so he just said yes and left it at that. It wasn't the first time he'd slept on Simon's couch. He could think of more comfortable places to sleep but this wasn't bad as far as sofas were concerned. He started to unravel one of the blankets and grabbed the pillow.

"Was worried you were going to give me a bloody Red Dwarf duvet," he mumbled,.

Simon let that one pass as he hovered around the doorway of his bedroom.

"I meant what I said, Gene," he began, "you can stay as long as you need to but you _have_ to pull yourself together."

"One very together Gene Hunt coming right up," Gene gave him a mock salute.

Simon tried to relax and trust Gene but somehow he couldn't. Something told him that his spiral of depression and self-abuse wasn't at an end yet. He gave a half-hearted wave.

"See you in the morning then," he said and closed the door behind him.

Gene waved back, quickly turning it into a two-fingered goodbye, then reached behind the sofa and pulled out an almost-full bottle of scotch.

"Not if I can help it," he commented, hoping to still be fairly deeply out for the count by then.

~xXx~

Gene got his wish. Still flat out the next morning, he remained oblivious as Simon stomped blearily out of his bedroom and spotted the half-empty scotch bottle on the floor. He picked it up and sighed crossly, shaking his head at the snoring, unshaven Gene sprawled across his couch. His first instinct was to yell at him to wake up and _get_ up but he was exhausted from trying to get Gene to pull his socks up. This was the only chance he was getting, and whenever he came out of his alcoholic slumber Simon was going to make damn sure he knew that.

He made a quick breakfast, which he barely ate. He was more concerned with clanking the crockery as loudly as possible to try to wake Gene than with eating. After he'd finished he set off for work, leaving Gene still asleep and muttering about duvets.

X

"Sir?"

Simon had barely sat at his desk when he saw Eddie lurking in the doorway. He gave a sigh.

"What is it?" he asked, "you're not getting another day off if you're still pissed and depressed."

"Err, no, Sir," Eddie said awkwardly, "the Super wants to see you."

Simon closed his eyes and groaned. What now? He hoped he wasn't going to get some sort of lecture about Gene. Guilt by association. Or _drunkenness_ by association, more to the point.

"Why didn't he just call me?" he wondered.

"He's been trying, Vickery's been clogging up your phone line calling the speaking clock for company on the extension," said Eddie.

Simon growled crossly. _Damn extension._ He needed a bloody private number.

"_Alright,"_ he mumbled getting to his feet. At least maybe he'd get to sit down for more than thirty seconds in Fletcher's office.

~xXx~

Fletcher had rarely dealt with Simon. In all the time Simon had been at Fenchurch East they'd had maybe three or four conversations. While Gene and Simon were on an equal footing in terms of rank Gene was undoubtedly still in charge of CID and all its off-shoots so most instructions had gone through him. It was no wonder then that both men were a little awkward as Simon knocked on the door and entered the room on Fletcher's say so.

"Have I done something wrong?" Simon asked, somewhat anxiously.

"No, DCI Shoebury, you haven't," Fletcher assured him, "Please sit down." He glanced at the half-finished crossword on his desk as Simon took a seat. Six down was really starting to bother him. "I, uh, don't suppose you're any good at crosswords, are you?"

Simon hesitated.

"Only 'good' in so far as knowing that I need to stay well away from them or end up with a ripped up newspaper on my floor," he said eventually.

Fletcher sighed. Damn shame. He supposed his crosswords were going to have to remain half-finished until Gene returned from his sabbatical, presuming that he made the right decisions and returned.

"Simon," he regarded him seriously, "as you are aware DCI Hunt has been given a one month sabbatical."

Simon exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Yes," he said quietly, "I'm aware of that," adding silently, _he's sabbaticalling all over my bloody couch with a bottle of scotch._

"Which leaves CID rather without anyone at the helm," Fletcher continued, "I'll cut to the chase; you're being transferred to acting head of CID, effective immediately, until DCI Hunt's return."

Simon felt a little as though someone had crashed a pair of cymbals around his head.

"I'm… what, sorry?" he wasn't sure he'd heard that correctly.

"You'll take temporary charge of CID until Hunt's return and DI Vickery will help your department to run smoothly in your absence."

Now Simon was _really_ sure he had misheard.

"Vickery will help it to run _smoothly_?" he cried, "Err…" he cleared his throat, "Well, I'm sure he'll manage…" he tried to gloss over that part.

"I understand CID is stretched to breaking point," Fletcher told him, "and that you could do with some assistance, especially with the emerging narcotics department now being absorbed into CID as a whole. We're doing all we can to headhunt some individuals to assist you."

Simon still wasn't sure what to say.

"Uh, thank you?" he tried.

"You've been here long enough to get to grips with the change of role," Fletcher told him, "hopefully it will only be for a few weeks and you can get back to doing your own job." He stood up and held out his hand to shake Simon's.

"Uh," Simon scrambled to his feet, a little confused, "Thanks, sir." He shook his hand and wondered how the hell he was going to cope with trying to control Bammo, Terry and the others while he was in charge.

"Two pieces of advice for you before you go," Fletcher began, "number one, don't scratch Gene's desk. And number two, don't use his parking space. Because either of those will most likely lead him to send you to early retirement." He paUsed, "or an early grave."

Simon gulped.

"Understood," he said.

He felt a little awkward as he left the office. While he appreciated the faith Fetcher was showing in him and was looking forward to the change of role something about Fletcher's words stuck with him. _You've been here long enough…._ He bit his lip as he realised that he'd been there for a year.

"_Shit,"_ he whispered.

A year without Robin. A year in this strange world. A year far away from home. He hung his head and fought back tears as he realised just how much he still missed his old life. He shook his head and tried not to think about that. He had to focus on keeping things together while Gene was away. He didn't want to be held responsible for more stars across the ceiling. Once was enough.

~xXx~

It was bright and early that Keats arrived at Fenchurch West that day. He had a buzzing feeling all through his bones. He couldn't sit still, and this time it had nothing to do with accidentally sitting on his pager. A call the night before from his acquaintance telling him there were some interesting files in the post had left him like a kid on Christmas Eve and he hopped around impatiently until the post arrived.

He snatched up his mail and rushed to his office to open it in peace, skipping past a couple of pieces of junk mail that promised him _a_ _photo album to cherish_ and _the most powerful binoculars in the world_, focusing instead on a large package that he opened with haste.

He pulled out a large wodge of copies. The originals were safely tucked away at their home station, no official enquiries made, no paper trail back to him, just a mate who owed him a favour and some information that he was going to find very interesting indeed.

He began to pore through the pages, one after another.

"Big family," he mumbled, "how many sisters…?" he counted them off as he flipped the files over one at a time, "three sisters, two cousins." He left one file sitting on the top. _Marie Ann Shoebury_, _nee Hooper_. "And oneMissus Shoebury," he said. His eyes were drawn to one part of the file and for a moment he honestly thought his heart stopped dead.

_Arresting officer: DCI Gene Hunt_

Keats sat and stared. There was little else he could do, considering that he seemed to have lost the ability to speak, move or think. There they were, plain as anything, words he'd never expected to see. He couldn't really take it in at first. He wasn't sure whether he was reading it right or hallucinating. Maybe he'd turned on the gas and air by mistake?

No, it was really there. He shook his head slightly as he tried to work out exactly what this meant. Coincidence? Yes. A surprise? Most definitely. But by itself it didn't lead anywhere useful. He needed more than that, but this was a start; something to build on. As soon as he regained the ability to walk he got to his feet, rushed to the door of his office, threw it open and yelled to the entirety of CID that he was not to be disturbed. He needed all the peace, quiet and concentration he could get.

He had a hell of a lot of reading to do.


	10. Chapter 5, 2011: Alex Malkovich

_**A/N: Oh goodness, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and out this story on alert, I am so grateful for your support and really glad that you're enjoying it – I promise to reply over the weekend when I've got some peace and quiet to concentrate! Thank you so much – I hope you continue to follow the story as Alex fights to find her way home -x-**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 5: 2011**

"No."

It had taken almost thirty seconds of absolute silence for Alex to form that response. Her mind had gone over and over those three whispered words, trying to make sense of them, trying to understand them, trying to work out how to respond. But none of the possible answers that her mind came up with seemed any use at all. None of them covered the extreme confusion and overwhelming emotion that Robin's words had subjected her to. Finally, when she had considered just about every possible combination of words and still come up with nothing useful she went for good old fashioned denial.

_No_.

It wasn't as though her mind wasn't screaming it. She thought that one same word over and over in all of the time that she tried to absorb Robin's words. It didn't make any sense. She had woken up; she hadn't brought her 1996 body back with her, so how could she possibly still be pregnant? How could her baby be inside of her _now?_

"Alex, it's true," Kim's voice wobbled a little as she spoke, her face seemed pale suddenly and fraught with emotion, "your doctor just told us. He said he examined you… your stomach?"

Alex hesitated. She recalled the strange examination that morning that focused on her abdomen out of the blue and the rush to get some blood samples. She'd thought it was strange at the time… no, she'd _known_ it was strange, and it had worried her, but she was already in such a mess emotionally that she couldn't stand to become paranoid about that too. She had enough going on in her head. She found herself biting her lip as her eyes started to prickle with tears. She tried to stop them but she didn't seem to be able to beat them.

"I can't still be pregnant," Her voice seemed to lose its power, becoming weaker with every word.

"We know it's a big shock," Robin began quietly, "I mean, we can't imagine how much you're going through right now, but…" he paused as he saw her face contort with so many emotions that she couldn't handle.

"I can't…. it's not possible… I'm not…"

Kim swallowed as she tried to keep her own emotions in check and leaned forward. She lifted Alex's hand gently and laid it across her belly. Stretching her palm across it Alex could feel the familiar curve that she had come to know so well through a thousand moments alone where she couldn't stop her hand from reaching down and brushing her changing shape. Very slowly she moved her hand, sweeping across her slowly rounding abdomen and she closed her eyes tightly as the tears most definitely started to come forth. She hated herself for that, she detested showing weakness but the moment was so strange and the emotions so strong that she couldn't fight it.

She felt herself starting to tremble as the full implication of her situation started to dawn upon her. The strange sensations she'd felt that she'd put down to a twitching nerve or a rumbling stomach, the sickness she'd had in the mornings – she might not have been in her 1996 body any more but she'd brought back with her a very unexpected souvenir.

"How?" her voice broke as she whispered, "I can't… I just woke up… not like my body came over… from ninety six…"

"Alex, we don't know how," Robin shook his head, "we have no more idea than you do. All we know is that yesterday we mentioned to the doctor that your stomach looked swollen and today he pulled us aside and told us you were pregnant."

"He says about three months," Kim said quietly.

Alex took in a sharp breath to hold back a sob.

"I was," she whispered, "I was three months pregnant." She shook her head a little as she realised she had started to feel the strange twitching inside her again_. Oh god,_ how was that possible? There was a part of Gene still there with her, a part of him inside her, carried over from another world and another time. "I can't understand this," she whispered.

Kim took in a deep breath.

"Worlds… have been drawing closer," she said quietly, "things happened while you were back there, Ma'am. Weird stuff." She exchanged a glance with Robin whose expression was pained and serious. He nodded, giving her the go-ahead to continue. "We both had these… _moments._ We saw through your eyes." She saw Alex beginning to look a little alarmed, "we felt… what you were feeling. It was as though we were inside your head, like we became you, just for a moment. It was like B_eing John Malkovich," _she paused and blushed a little, "except you had a much nicer body to be in…"

Robin cleared his throat to draw her attention back to the matter in hand. He had still not gotten over the shock of momentarily having breasts.

"I don't understand," Alex tried to work out what Kim was saying.

"Neither did we," she whispered, "but whatever you were going through at the time… physically… the same thing happened to us. You passed out in the Super's office so I passed out in my hallway."

"And you threw up, so I did the same," Robin said awkwardly.

"What has that got to do with…" Alex hesitated, "with… with _this?"_ her hand moved slowly across her stomach again.

"Something's making the worlds come so close together that… that things that had never been possible before are happening," Robin tried to explain.

"Ma'am, you were one of a kind," Kim said quietly, "you were as real in ninety six as you were here, in your bed, in two thousand and eleven. When you left that world and faded out, your body…" she shook her head slightly, "_bodies_… must have merged. Somehow." She didn't really know how to explain the theory circulating through her mind. "Like the worlds were so close together that… _physically_… a part of you crossed too."

"Not a part of _me,"_ Alex whispered, "a part of Gene."

Kim and Robin's expressions were grim and serious as they nodded slowly.

"Alex, we should warn you," Robin began, "the doctor…. The hospital…. They're jumping to conclusions. You've been comatose for eight months and pregnant for three."

"They think someone…" Kim closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't need to finish her sentence as the horrified look on Alex's face confirmed.

"But… no, it's _Gene's –"_

"But _they_ don't know that and you can't exactly tell them," said Kim, "we all know they'd never understand or believe it."

Alex already knew that.

"No," she whispered.

"They're going to talk to you about DNA testing," Robin said quietly, "they think someone in the hospital… took advantage of you while you were in the coma." He closed his eyes. "Or that_ I _did."

Just when Alex thought she couldn't be any more shocked Robin's words threw her another curveball.

_"What?"_

"As a male visitor I'm _under suspicion,"_ Robin said crossly, his stomach churning horribly at the whole idea.

"Robin? Like you could…" Alex shook her head, "_father a child._ That's ridiculous…"

Rabin blushed a little and glanced awkwardly at Kim.

"Not _that_ ridiculous," he mumbled.

"The point is that they want to test everyone who has been in contact with you," Kim interrupted, "they're going to talk to you about this… they didn't want us to say anything but we couldn't leave it for the doctor to tell you something this important. Not when he wouldn't understand"

"No. No, of course not," Alex whispered, "thank you."

Robin looked at her seriously.

"Whatever happens, you know we're both here, right?"

Alex nodded slowly bit her expression was stating to crumble again.

"I know," she whispered, "thank you." she tried hard to fight them back but tears started to fall again, causing both Robin and Kim to panic.

"Alex? Are you OK?"

Alex tried hard to calm the tears but they weren't going to stop yetr.

"Gene's baby" she whispered, "it's Gene's baby, and he's not here… he's so far away, and he doesn't know… doesn't know it's still…" she closed her eyes tightly and tried to choke back another round of tears just as the doctor chose to peer into the room. A steely glare focused on Robin and Kim.

"I don't believe it," he said.

The pair glanced up guiltily.

"Uh…" Kim began.

"I expressly told you not to say a word, but you've told her, haven't you?"

"Well we _had_ to!" Robin protested, "We couldn't leave it to you, _scaremongering_… she needed to hear it from people she knew and trusted."

The doctor stormed in and kept an angry glare upon them but he couldn't undo what had already been said. He turned to Alex and began,

"Alex, it's true, we ran a blood and a urine pregnancy test on you today and they both came up positive. From the examination I gave you this morning you're somewhere between twelve to fourteen weeks pregnant. We'll have to give you an ultrasound scan as soon as possible to pinpoint your estimated due date, and obviously this pregnancy also impacts upon your intended programme of rehabilitation." He sighed, angry that he'd been pushed into giving this talk sooner than he was ready to. "But there are two important things for you to think about. First of all, we need to offer you a prenatal DNA test. We'll take a small sample of cells from the placenta for this, and take swabs from all male staff and visitors who may have been in contact with you. We need to find out how this could have happened. This is a terrible violation and we are horrified this could have happened under our care."

Alex looked down. She wished she could explain that the doctor was apologising for something that had never happened but she couldn't even begin to explain it.

"I…" she trailed off. She didn't have anything to say.

"Secondly, I've asked for one of the midwives to come along and discuss your choices with you."

Alex frowned.

"Choices?"

"To decide whether you wish to continue with the pregnancy or not."

Alex's mouth opened in horror.

"Of _course_ I'm going to," she said as loudly as her voice would let her.

"This is a big decision and a great shock for anyone to come to terms with –"

"This is _my_ baby," Alex hissed, angry at the suggestion.

"We wish for you to take some time to think about it," the doctor told her, "there's no need to make a decision yet." He walked towards the door. "I'll leave you to think things over in peace." He glared at Robin and Kim. "I suggest you both do the same."

Robin made a rude gesture behind his back as he left while Kim turned to Alex.

"Ma'am, it was only natural for him to suggest that… he doesn't know. He doesn't know this is a baby you love and want, he thinks that you've been… _violated. "_

"I know," Alex whispered, "It just made me… so _angry_." Her blood was still boiling from the suggestion.

Robin stopped making unpleasant signs after the doctor and turned back to Alex.

"We won't let them pressure you into anything," he said, "we'll help you to stay strong and stick by your decisions."

Alex closed her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered.

As Robin and Kim continued to make promises around her she zoned out and concentrated on the feeling of her burgeoning belly against her fingers. She still didn't understand it, and she didn't really believe it – maybe she wouldn't until she saw the baby on her scan – but somehow it had happened. The unthinkable. The impossible. Worlds had collided and she'd brought over with her a piece of Gene; the fusion between the dead and the living. How and why it was possible, she may never know, but her motherly instincts kicked in strongly and she knew more than anything that she was going to get better and stronger as fast as she could. Her baby deserved that much. Their baby, hers and Gene's. If there was a way back to him – for both of them – then she was going to find it, no question.

~xXx~

Kim couldn't shake her worries about Robin as she ran he fingers up and down his back. He'd been so quiet since they left the hospital. They'd stayed with Alex for as long as they were able to before they were thrown out to allow her to get some sleep. They'd insisted on staying with her through the relentless and pointless trail of doctors, nurses, midwives and even police who spoke to her about the pregnancy, about her 'options' and about the testing that they had wanted to do. Alex had agreed to the DNA testing. She was worried about the small risk to the baby but she couldn't bear the guilt of anyone being accused of something as terrible of raping her while she lay unconscious, especially not Robin, nor any of the people who had tended to her while she needed round the clock care.

Finally they'd taken her for a scan. The moment they turned the screen to face her was the moment she actually believed it was really happening. Up until then there had been a strong element of doubt. The _hows_ and _whys_ were still unanswered and she wasn't sure she would ever find out how this had been possible, but the image of her baby, it's arms and legs moving wildly on the screen, showed her one thing for certain – that sometimes miracles happen.

After Alex's scan she'd been told to rest and Kim and Robin had been chased out. Almost literally – the doctor had threatened to get a broom at one point. They'd driven home in near silence and after barely managing to eat anything for tea they went to bed, even though it was only eight on the evening. Bed was their retreat and it had been since the very start of their relationship. Just _before_ that, even. It wasn't even a sexual thing, it was a comforting thing. No matter what was going on, bed was their haven. Feeling cold? _Bed_. Bad day? _Bed._ Feeling under the weather? Most _definitely_ bed. A day in which they'd discovered that their friend had a miracle baby from a different world still growing inside her definitely counted as needing the comfort of their bed.

"Rob?" Kim began quietly as she traced her fingers around the tattoo on his shoulder, "are you OK?"

Robin wasn't really sure himself. He wasn't going to lie and tell her everything was fine, because it wasn't. But there were too many things going through his mind to really pinpoint what part of it was making him feel so low.

"It's been a pretty rotten day, hasn't it?" he said quietly.

Kim sighed deeply and laid against him.

"Just a bit," she said quietly. She paused as she tried to think of some way to make him feel better, "You know, the tests are going to prove it's stupid for them even to _consider_ you in all of this."

"Yeah, I know," Robin said quietly. He sounded so low, Kim had rarely heard him like that before. "Still feel shitty that they'd even think it." He shook his head a little. "And what about Alex? Having to pretend that she doesn't know what's happened? Going through all of this, all the testing and the police investigation when that child's father doesn't even exist in the here and now." His voice lowered slightly. "And waking up here, thinking she'd lost that baby… that it had just… _disappeared_ when she vanished from over there…" he closed his eyes, "she must have gone through hell."

Kim felt her own spirits sinking as she laid a hand on his arm. She knew what he was really thinking about.

"It made me think about it too," she whispered, the miscarriages never far from her mind. She cursed herself for not being able to open up about it as much as she knew she should, and especially as much as Robin needed to. She could see how hard that they'd hit him. Alex's pregnancy had brought it home to them both, but Robin seemed to be taking it particularly hard. She moved back a little as Robin slowly rolled over to face her and she brushed his hair away from his eyes. In a relatively short space of time they seemed to have gone through the entire sphere of human experience, and then some.

"Do you think they're ever going to let us tell Alex about us?" Robin asked, "can she face that particular shock yet?"

"I think after today's shock to end all shocks she's going to need a few days away from the element of surprise," Kim sighed.

"Bollocks," Robin was getting a little tired of all the secrecy.

Kim sighed.

"Alright," she began, "think of it this way – stop thinking about how hard it is to keep it a secret from her and start thinking about how bloody impossible it's going to be to work out how to _tell_ her."

Robin bit his lip.

"You make an excellent point," he said.

Kim gave a slightly satisfied smile..

"Then my work here is done," she said.

As they lay together and let the evening melt away around them both knew that the day's events had started a new chapter. Alex was going to need more support than ever and they would have to be the ones to provide it for her – no one else understood, nor would they ever. They hoped they could give Alex all the help and strength that she needed because from there on in things were only going to get more complicated.

~xXx~

As Alex stared at the grainy black and white image beside her bed her mouth wavered between a smile and an anxious clenching of her jaw. She couldn't understand nor come to terms with what was happening. Her emotions were so jumbled up inside of her that she couldn't work out whether to laugh or cry.

"Oh Gene," she whispered, knowing full well that he couldn't hear her, "I wish that you knew. I wish you knew what was happening right now." She closed her eyes as she thought about what Gene must be going through on the other side of the line. How had he coped when she left his world? Was he alright? Was there anyone to take care of him?

Her hand rubbed against her belly again. It was the only way of constantly reminding herself that it was real, that she was still pregnant and that it was really happening despite all the odds.

"We're going to find a way back, Gene," she whispered as she began to feel tiredness and sleep heading her way, "I don't know how, but we will. Whatever it takes. Because we belong with you. Both of us."

That was her last thought before she drifted to sleep, and it was the one that helped her to stay strong after the strangest, most stressful day of her life. She had learned one thing for sure through all the strange years she'd spent in Gene's world, and that was there was _always_ a way, if she wanted it hard enough. And she did. She had the mental strength to fight her way back home. Now she just needed her body to follow suit.


	11. Chapter 5, 1996: Keep Talking

**Chapter 5: 1996**

"_Oh for…"_ Simon marched across the office and removed the string of vending machine cups from around Poirot's neck by pulling it hard. The string came apart with a 'ping' and cups fell in every direction. "You are _not_ the Mayor or Fenchurch and you've just wasted eighteen bloody cups!"

"I'll put them back," Poirot mumbled crossly.

"You punched holes in the bottom to string them up with!" cried Simon, "what the hell are you thinking? Someone gets a coffee in one of those and we end up with a lawsuit for their scalded legs!"

"Sir?"

"_What?"_ Simon spun around and barked at Eddie.

Eddie looked a little taken aback.

"Don't shoot the messenger!" he cried indignantly.

Simon closed his eyes and sighed. He tried to regain his composure. He'd been acting head of CID since eight that morning. It was now four in the afternoon and so far he'd had to issue three written warnings, make two formal apologies to members of the public and sweep up a rather nasty mess left by Terry and Bammo playing a game they called 'Snot Balloons'. It involved green jelly and condoms. That was as much as Simon knew and more than he ever wanted to.

"Sorry," he sighed, "Sorry, Eddie, what do you want?"

"Security just called," Eddie said warily, "they've stopped DCI Hunt in reception."

Simon froze. His eyes closed and leaned back against the wall.

"They what?" he frowned.

"Apparently he was asking to see his friends the plant pots and demanding to be let back to CID," Eddie explained."

Simon gave a deep groan. He knew Gene couldn't be trusted to leave the scotch alone, he just knew it. Shaking his head he marched to the door, turning back briefly to bark,

"Put those bloody cups in the bin, and if I catch you doing anything like that again your next mayoral duties will involve being knighted up the arse with a very long broom!"

~xXx~

The smell of the scotch greeted Simon a long time before he could see or hear Gene. When he finally caught sight of him it was taking thee security guards to hold him back as he told them at volume how he was the almighty ruler of Fenchurch East and was going to purchase a crown and cape to illustrate the point.

Simon shook his head slowly. It hadn't been all that long ago the roles were reversed. While Simon had never declared himself to be Fenchurch Royalty and Gene hadn't ended up as Keats's latest pet project it had only been five months since Simon was the one on the drunken downward spiral with Gene trying to put him back on the straight and narrow, albeit with more filing cabinet related incidents.

"Come on, Gene," he said stiffly, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him away from the guards, "this is doing no good."

"Can't even sit in me own throne anymore," Gene slurred.

"Do you want me to try the fining cabinet thing or are you going to come home quietly?" Simon hissed.

"You've not got the upper-body strength," Gene muttered but reluctantly started to walk along with an angry Simon, out of the doorway and into the car park.

"That's it, Gene, that's your last chance," Simon hissed under his breath, "I told you… I _warned_ you that you needed to shape the fuck up."

"So what now? Back to me cardboard box?" Gene said crossly.

Simon didn't reply. He wasn't going to see Gene out on the street but he'd had enough chances and it was time to try something different. If he wasn't going to pull his own socks up then Simon was going to have to take a different approach. He marched him down the road and soon arrived back at his flat.

"Black coffee," he said.

"Doesn't really work you know," Gene told him.

"Didn't stop you pouring it down my throat when I'd been playing truth or dare, though, did it?" Simon pointed out. He parked Gene at the kitchen table and started to fill the kettle loudly, turning the water on as high as he could. He made sure to clank everything that he possibly could in some sort of effort to bring on a faster hangover or at the very least to keep Gene awake. When he eventually looked round as the kettle boiled Gene was sitting with his head in his hands looking more distant than Simon had ever seen. He had to make a quick decision before he lost his attention completely.

Abandoning the half-made coffees he walked to the lounge and uncovered one of Gene's many bottles of scotch. He took it into the kitchen and plonked it hard on the table. That shook Gene out of his daze as he jumped a little and looked at it in confusion.

"What's this? Aversion therapy?"

Simon found a couple of glasses and sat them on the table. He took a seat opposite Gene and began to pour.

"You're right," he said, "black coffee'll do fuck all. The only way to get you to talk is by giving you one of these." He screwed the cap back on the bottle and pushed one of the glasses towards him. "So talk."

Gene glanced from the glass to Simon.

"About what?"

"Alex."

Gene let out his breath with a frustrated sigh and stared into his glass.

"I said enough five months ago and it didn't help," he mumbled.

Simon sighed again and picked up his own glass. He took a sip of the scotch which he still didn't really like then looked at Gene.

"You feel like you've got an expiry date on your depression, right? Like you're only allowed to talk about it for a few weeks and then you've got to be normal again and shut up about it." He saw Gene look up at him finally. "You know, I should have been able to help you with this. Above everyone else I should have been able to help, because I've been there. But what kind of bloody example am I?" he shook his head. "Look at the state of me, Gene. One year on and look at me." He lifted his glass to give him a distraction from Gene's slightly pie-eyed stare. "Came here with Robin and three days later he woke up. Thought I was next, I really did. But the next day I found out I was dead. Suddenly I had this whole other life put upon me, taking bloody souls and running some department with a blubbering Vickery causing damp patches in the corners. I went to pieces."

Gene picked up his glass.

"Doesn't normally happen that way, Simon," he said, unsure if that would be any consolation or just make things worse, "don't usually have people appearing here one day and taking souls the next. Usually 'appens over a long time. Years. Someone sees yer potential and you get the promotion."

"Like Alex?" asked Simon.

Gene nodded as he took a sip from his scotch.

"Never figured out why you were different," he mumbled.

Simon didn't want to dwell too much on that. He was veering away from his point.

"What I'm trying to say," he began, "is that I couldn't cope with being separated from Robin, knowing I couldn't see him or be with him. I went from being teetotal to having alcohol instead of blood in my veins."

Gene looked a little sheepish.

"Suppose I didn't help by pushing me bottle into yer hands every five minutes," he said.

Simon shook his head.

"Wasn't your fault. I could have said no if I'd wanted to. Just like when Kim 'taught' me to drink beer. I could have told her I wasn't interested, but I didn't. And worse than that, I liked it. Got Robin off my mind for a while and gave me my first decent night's sleep in weeks." He sighed deeply as he thought about his behaviour since he arrived "after that, I was out boozing every night. I stopped eating properly. I'd go days without a meal and then binge on junk. Drank so much beer at night I might as well have been a representative for Carlsberg. Took its bloody toll too," he poked at his stomach where there was a small but definite paunch starting to grow. His previous scrawny form had started to change from all the empty calories in the beer. "Then that wasn't enough," he sighed, "so I started taking tranquilisers at night. Then caffeine pills in the day…not to mention all the painkillers and alka seltzers. Couldn't get myself out of the cycle and ended up bending over Keats's bed and being consigned to the basement." He drank the rest of his scotch, gave a quiet gasp and sat the glass back down. "Do you know what my problem was?"

Gene studied him.

"The fact you're a nerdy, poofy geek with an Arnold Rimmer complex?" he suggested.

Unusually, Simon let him get away with that.

"Apart from that," he said. He paused. "I stopped talking. I thought I couldn't talk about Robin any more. Thought that I had to keep it all to myself. So I took it out on myself in other ways. Now I'm watching you do the same, and I can't see you go through what I oid." He looked up at Gene. "So talk."

Gene stared back at him. For several moments he didn't know what to do. He wasn't pleased about being told to talk on demand. In fact, he wasn't pleased about being commanded to do _anything_. Gene Hunt didn't _do_ heartfelt conversations. He didn't bear his soul. Never had. He remembered how stilted his proposal had been, and that was to _Alex_, the one person he could ever open up to, even by a small amount.

_But. _

Simon had been right. He'd given up talking because it never seemed to get any better and he felt as though his time was up – he wasn't _allowed_ to still be affected by Alex's awakening and should just be able to get on with things. It didn't work that way.

Several moments of silence passed and Simon wondered if he'd overstepped the mark. He feared close contact with a filing cabinet was in his near future. Then, unexpectedly, after taking a very large gulp of scotch that emptied his glass he sat it on the table, took a deep breath and said,

"Coppers come here to finish their unfinished business or to 'ave a life when theirs is cut short too soon." He looked down. "I'm in the second category, Shoebury. Died young. Not told you about that. Not a pretty picture to get in yer head, we'll leave it at that." He reached for the bottle and topped up his glass. His hands were shaking. "Problem was, I did it all wrong. Came here and forgot to 'ave a life. Got so bogged down in me work, clearing the scum off the streets, taking me place as the head of me own domain. I was the Manc Lion, a name to be feared, son. But that wasn't a life. Or more to the point, work _was_ me life." He drank a little more scotch as his mind ran over the days before he met Alex. "I tried, but me heart wasn't in it. Got married, too young and too soon. Problem was, I was too in love with the police force. Me job was the other woman in me marriage. Should have told me something, but it didn't. When you're thinking more about who's in the cells than who's in yer bed then you know things aren't working out."

Simon watched Gene carefully. He couldn't remember him ever opening up like this. There had been glimpses of who Gene was under all the lip and bravado but rarely had he even shown a hint of it.

"So when did things change?" he asked.

Gene studied his glass as though looking for a coded message in the cut-glass. He huffed through his nostrils as he tried to work it out.

"Silly posh tart got under me skin," he said, "Not been down 'ere long. Marriage had broken up, Sam had gone and I needed a new start. Barely found me feet when she arrived, dressed to the nines like the classiest hooker you'll ever see. Bloody undercover detective inspector from the bloody future." He finally looked back at Simon. "Played stupid games. You know all this mushy crap. Took years to stop messing around. Day you turned up the first time, I'd just sent her packing, sent her off to the pub. Thought she was a gonner." He shook his head slowly. "Got that one wrong." More scotch was called for. He let the liquid flow over his tongue and take away some of the pain as he pictured her walking away from him, into the Railway Arms. "Silly mare jumped out the window. It turned out…" he paused and looked Simon in the eye, "she 'ad a bit of a thing for me." He buried his nose in his glass as he mumbled,. "won't insult yer intelligence by pretending the feeling wasn't mutual."

"I saw that much from the moment she walked into your office behind me and claimed back her lipstick and tights," said Simon, still slightly pissed off that Gene had made some accusations concerning Simon's inheritance of said items.

"Ten years we spent messing around," Gene continued, "I always knew I was going to lose her. That's why it took so long to put a ring on 'er finger and a bun in 'er oven."

"I'm sure Alex would be enchanted to hear you phrasing it so delightfully," Simon pulled a face.

Gene ignored him.

"Knew she'd wake up in the end. Always thought it would be because of her girl though. Molly." He shook his head slowly. "But she made her decision. She wanted to stay here, Simon. She picked me. Started taking it for granted, relaxed too much. Believed just because she _wanted_ to stay it would always be that way. But for the first time, I had a life. And even though me job was still as important to me as it was before, Bolly was the one person who understood that, because we were on the same page." He took a quick gulp from his glass. "So, suddenly there I was, with a life. Happy. Engaged. Even had a kid on the way. Then it was gone, just like that." To demonstrate, he finished his scotch and sat the hollow glass back on the table. "and me life was as empty as me glass."

"Gene, I know Alex isn't here right now but one day –" 

"Yeah, yeah, maybe she'll be back. Maybe she won't. Maybe she'll end up at some other station an 'undred miles away. Maybe she'll live another fifty years out there and I'll be old and grey when she comes back. Maybe she won't be back at all. Got no way of knowing." He rubbed his forehead and sighed deeply. "You know what, Shoebury? She'd still be here if it wasn't for me bollocks." 

Simon just _had_ to be halfway through taking a mouthful of his drink when Gene spoke, didn't he? He had to be just at the right stage of his mouthful to choke and spray alcohol across the table.

"_Shit,"_ he cured, half wiping it up. He glanced at Gene. "What _exactly_ do you mean?"

"Bloody male pride, ignoring the condoms, wanting to know if I could…" he cleared his throat gruffly, leaving the end of his thought hanging for Simon to guess. Simon shuffled a little awkwardly. He could fill in the blanks. "Didn't think it was even possible here until Jimbo shoved one up Stringer."

"Again, I am sure Kim would be grateful for your sensitive handling of that remark!" Simon choked a little.

"Didn't know what it was going to do to her though. Existing here and there. Two Bollys. It was too much."

Simon stared at Gene. He was glad that he'd finally decided to talk about what he was going through but it didn't seem to have helped much. his expression looked grimmer than ever.

"Alright," he began with a sigh, "I understand what it's like when they wake up, Gene. But what about the station? If that was such an important part of your life then why are you letting it go to rack and ruin?"

"Was," Gene repeated.

"What?"

"You hit the nail on the head. It _was_ an important part of me life. Not now." He reached for the bottle again. "Too many memories."

Simon looked down.

"For me, it's the reverse," he said quietly, "I haven't got enough of them. There's nothing to remind me of Robin. Keats destroyed my only photo. He was only here three days – barely enough time to make any memories." He stared into his own glass and swilled the liquid around. "I wish I could change things. I wish I could bring Alex back for you. But I can't. You've already lost your flat; you're going to lose your job as well if you carry on like this."

Gene nodded awkwardly. Admitting weakness wasn't in his nature.

"I know," he said with a sigh.

"I can give you my couch for a few weeks and lend you my ear when you need to talk, but that's as much as I can do."

Gene nodded.

"I appreciate it," he mumbled, "and I know I need to get over Bolly."

"You don't need to get over her, you just need to learn to carry on until she finds a way back." 

"Don't think there's a side entrance, Simon."

"If there's a way, she'll find it."

Gene wasn't sure that she could this time. It had been five months and there'd been no sign of her. No dreams, no bleedthroughs, no voices, no messages – Alex was gone from his life and his world. But he also knew that he was getting nowhere half-killing himself with booze and depression, leaving his station without the Manc Lion at its helm.

He knew that he had to change. He would hate for Alex to see him that way, and if – somehow – wherever she was, she could catch a glimpse of him she'd be horrified to see the state he was in. he was going to find a way to carry on, for her sake as well as for his own. If she ever did make it back he wanted there to still be a world for her to return to. He bent down underneath the table, causing Simon to frown.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

A moment later, Gene's head appeared above the surface again.

"Pulling me socks up," he said.


	12. Chapter 6, 2011: Adult Entertainment

**Chapter 6: 2011**

Slowly. That was the word of the moment. For the last two weeks Alex had been slowly coming to terms with the pregnancy, slowly regaining movement through her body, slowly making progress and slowly wanting to kill her bloody doctor in the most horrifying and painful way, preferably one that involved a telephone, soap powder and an electric cattle prod.

Almost a fortnight had passed since the fateful Sunday that brought the news she'd never expected to hear and the first few days had been about as difficult as she'd expected them to be. A constant procession of medical professionals marched in and out of her room, checking how she was recovering while taking the baby's progress into consideration too. The discovery of the pregnancy had thrown a lot of her rehabilitation and recuperation off of track and her doctors had been forced to rethink some of her treatment.

One of the good side effects from this was that she had been allowed back onto solid food sooner than anticipated. While they'd upped various nutrients through her feeding tube the decision was taken to allow her to get back to eating real food and allow her to start to support her baby better. Spending so many months comatose had left her looking frail and scrawny, her growing bump standing out even more obviously against her bony hips.

She'd kept her mouth shut about the baby's conception. There was no way in the world she could begin to explain it so she'd had to jump through all the right hoops to prove that she wanted to keep the baby despite the 'violation' that had occurred and she'd listened to endless mind-numbing legal information. She had learned to tune out a lot of the nonsense that was being spoken about the situation and focus instead on trying to come to terms with the fact that her baby had crossed an impossible barrier somehow.

The DNA testing had already started. Alex had been terrified that the taking of cells would bring on a miscarriage but if her baby was strong enough to skip from 1996 to 2011 then it was strong enough to survive anything. The first round of tests had come back with no matches, exonerating Robin as well as many of Alex's dedicated medical team from suspicion. Robin was relieved that his short time in the frame was over but still furious that he'd ever been under suspicion. He knew he was over-sensitive but even being tested had made him feel as though everyone suspected him and he was finding it hard to shake that feeling, despite the test proving he had nothing to do with Alex's condition.

~x~

Robin and Kim set off to the hospital straight from work. Kim's course had reached an end and now came the wait to see if she passed her assessments and would get the post and promotion that had been dangled before her like a hostage-negotiating carrot.

"I feel like I've barely seen you the last two weeks," Kim complained as she leaned back tiredly in the passenger seat, "I never realised the training was going to be so intense."

"Got the whole weekend off together though," Robin pointed out.

"Haven't even seen Alex since Tuesday," Kim sighed, "how was she yesterday?"

Robin sighed and shook his head.

"You know Alex," he said, "making _miraculous_ steps to recovery. And faking the ones she's not making yet to get out of that place."

"I don't blame her, hospitals give me the creeps," Kim shuddered. She was aware of Robin looking at her a little strangely. "What's the matter? Have I got hostage blood on my face or something?"

"Nothing," Robin tried to pull his attention back to the road.

"Yes there is," Kim started to get paranoid and checked her reflection quickly in the rear view mirror, fearing someone had drawn a moustache on her face.

"There's something about you today," Robin said a little awkwardly, "that's all. Don't know what it is." He hesitated a little shyly. "Just been thinking about you all day."

Kim turned her face a little so that he didn't see her smile. That wouldn't be good for her credibility.

"Well make sure you stop staring before we get to the hospital, or Alex will add another question to her repertoire."

The _not-giving-Alex-any-_shocks thing was getting old very fast. The previous week the doctors had finally relented and told her about Evan's incarceration – that was one was a little difficult to keep from her so she had been told about his trial and imprisonment. The next shock she was going to be 'allowed' to hear about was 'Layton's attack in her hospital room, which Robin and Kim knew they would then have to un-tell and re-tell with all the right details. But it was thought that one shock a week was as much as Alex was going to be allowed for now so their relationship had to stay undercover for another few days.

But Alex was far from stupid and although the idea that they could have been in any kind of a romantic relationship had been a million miles from her mind she'd most definitely noticed _something_ was going on. She'd even dedicated a whole section in her notepad to the matter. Questions such as_ "what are you stroking Robin's arm for?" _caused Kim to pretend that she had spotted some lint on his uniform and needed to remove it, leading Alex to write _"Kim = possible fluff-related OCD"_ in her notebook. She'd also observed on one occasion that Robin appeared to be wearing lipstick. Kim instantly regretted the decision to wear make up for once that day and Robin had taken the rap by claiming he was just '_trying something different'._ Unfortunately that led to the application of eyeliner as Kim attempted to embellish his cover story, which to his surprise he found he kind of liked.

"Great, now I'm turning into Russell Brand," he muttered as he tried to pretend he wasn't going to apply it again.

Their arrival at the hospital led to them being accosted by Alex's doctor again. They never liked it when he led them into a side room. It would never lead to anything good

"just to keep you informed," he began seriously, "we have now tested every male member of staff and volunteer in the hospital. There have been no matches."

This wasn't exactly news to Robin and Kim, who not only both knew that Gene was the father but also had access to the results from work before anyone in the hospital got hold of them. But they didn't want to steal the doctor's thunder, so they just let him get on with broadcasting his news to them.

"Well, I'm glad that all your staff have been cleared," Kim said a little awkwardly.

"The police have been very co-operative," the doctor told them, "as the tests so far and extensive questioning of all staff have come up with no leads they're going to start checking other DNA samples that are held on file, starting with sex offenders and going on from there."

"Nice to see you're being so pro-active," Robin really couldn't have cared less if they'd decided to DNA test some sheep. He drew in a deep breath and took his opportunity to speak to the doctor about another matter. "Uh, how's Alex doing with her rehabilitation?"

"She's progressing well," the doctor told him, "she can manage fine with her wheelchair but she's also made good progress using a walking frame. The next step will be sticks."

"When do you see her being allowed to leave here?"

"Well, that's a more complicated matter," the doctor told him, "because when she's received all the medical care that she needs she will still need to be supervised and to undergo further therapy for some time. Without any next of kin it's looking likely that she'll need to be placed in a rehabilitation centre."

Robin bit his lip.

"How would someone go about offering her a place to stay when she leaves hospital?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I understand."

Robin drew in a deep breath.

"We've talked this over a lot," he began nervously, "we'd like her to stay with us."

"The responsibility of taking care of her physical needs –"

"We'll work around that," Robin said quickly, "we can arrange alternate shifts with work so there's someone at home with her. There's a spare room."

"She'll need to receive ongoing rehabilitation. Exercises, appointments –"

"We understand that," said Kim, "we can drive her wherever she needs to go, help her with whatever exercises she needs to do."

"Please," Robin began, "after all she's been through, she can't end up in some… generic rehabilitation place full of strangers. She'll do much better with people she knows."

The doctor didn't seem sure about this idea. Not in the slightest. But he already knew that Robin was still holding a grudge about the whole _DNA_ thing and didn't want to come off as heartless.

"Alex still has a long way to go," he said, "give it two weeks, see how much progress she's making and then we'll speak again."

Robin sighed and nodded. It wasn't the answer he was hoping for but it was better than nothing.

"Alright," he sighed.

The doctor nodded a goodbye and left on his last rounds of the day. Kim and Robin slowly walked towards Alex's hospital room, unsure what their chances of taking Alex home would actually be.

"At least he didn't dismiss it," Kim pointed out.

"I know," sighed Robin. "I just get the feeling that because we're not next of kin we're going to get swept under the carpet."

"We're the designated adult representatives in Alex's care," Kim reminded him, "speak to Molly. Get her to talk to the doctor."

Robin nodded slowly.

"Not a bad idea," he said.

As they reached the door of Alex's room they found her bed was empty. They exchanged a shrug and a glance, then caught the attention of a nurse who was passing.

"Erm, miss?" Robin began. The nurse glanced around.

"Can I help you?"

"Do you know where Alex Drake is?"

The nurse nodded.

"There was a hold up with her physical therapy," she said, "she went down a little late, should be back in twenty minutes."

"Damn," Robin sighed, closing his eyes.

"You're welcome to wait in her room," the nurse said pleasantly, "or go to the canteen and get something to eat?"

Robin and Kim both felt their stomachs lurch at the thought.

"No thank you," Kim said, spluttering a little, "last time we ate in there we both considered sending our tastebuds for counselling."

"We'll wait in here," Robin said, "thank you"

Kim and Robin walked into the empty room and sat down with a sigh. After all the rushing to get there, Alex wouldn't even be back for an age.

"Fancy a game of I-Spy?" Kim asked sarcastically, pulling a face.

"I don't like your version of I-Spy," said Robin, "you cheat."

"I do not!"

"Yes you do!"

"How do I cheat?"

"_I spy with my little eye, something beginning with A?"_ Robin reminded her, _"…'another fucking bed'…"_

"We'd already had 'bed' twice!" Kim protested. She noticed Robin was staring at her again. "What?"

Robin tried to keep his smile at bay.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," he protested.

"Oh come on, you've been staring at me all day, you're giving me a complex!"

"I haven't been staring at you all day, that's the problem," said Robin, "I missed you."

Kim glanced down, desperately trying not to blush. There was a part of her that resented the way Robin had turned her into something resembling a love-struck teenager. It was _so _not her. But that part of her was very, very small indeed. She bit on her lip to stop herself from smiling and said quietly,

"Well, I'm here now."

Robin's smile broadened.

"I know," he whispered.

Oh, that did it. Their eyes met, and that signalled trouble. That was how they got into this situation in the first place. Every time their eyes met they felt an irresistible attraction that they couldn't fight, no matter what they tried. How it happened, neither could understand, even to this day, but it was real and fiery and there was no beating it. Her hand reached up and pulled his face towards her. She closed her eyes and kissed him through the smile she'd finally stopped trying to fight. She'd rarely smiled before she met Robin. It was an alien concept to her. Her life had changed beyond all comparison now though.

They had these moments; the moments when something just happened and it didn't matter where or when, they couldn't fight it Her fingers delved deep into his dark hair while he reached around her back and pulled her closer. His hands slipped underneath her shirt and moved slowly up her back; the feeling of her beautifully inked skin against his fingers was driving him crazy. He loved to feel the slight changes in skin tone where the colours and the patterns lay. It made him want her so much, right there and then.

With some difficulty she drew back for a moment, her eyes still closed as she breathed,

"_We can't – not here –"_

But she contradicted her own words as her hands plunged down into his lap and reached for his belt.

"The door –" he managed to mutter, just about stopping their moment of passion for long enough to get up and block out the outside world. Oh _god,_ he knew this was wrong and dangerous but something about Kim brought out a whole other side to him, and he couldn't fight it – even if he wanted to. Which he really, _really_ didn't.

This was so wrong… this was really, _really_ wrong but they'd seen so little of each other while Kim was undergoing her training that they'd missed each other deeply and needed a moment of wickedly dangerous passion. Robin could barely function as he leaned back and absorbed the feeling of Kim pulling down his trousers and moments later climbing into his lap. It was wrong, it was bad, it was… _oh, so_ good – too good to stop. Couldn't stop anyway… needed this too much… the fire grew hotter as their bodies started to meld into one.

~xXx~

"Bloody physical therapist," Alex mumbled as she wheeled herself along the corridor, "you call yourself a physical therapist and yet you collapse with a suspected heart attack in the middle of the session!"

That was just her luck. The sort of thing that could only happen to her. As though it hadn't been bad enough that the session had stared so late she'd only had half of it when the therapist fell to the floor, clutching her chest.

Returning to her room, she found the door closed whish struck her as strange. She pulled up alongside it in her chair and turned the handle. As she opened it a crack and started to turn around to wheel herself in she heard a breathless gasp.

"_Oh god… I'm gonna – I'm gonna –"_

Gonna make Alex pass out in shock and horror, apparently.

The sight of a half naked Kim moving at a frankly unthinkable pace atop a flushed and breathless Robin in one of the hospital chairs was not only the last thing Alex expected to see but most probably the last thing she _wanted_ to see. In the throes of passion it took several moments before either of them noticed her in the doorway, certainly long enough for her to have witnessed more action than in one of Gene's _videos_ that he pretended not to keep behind the sofa.

It wasn't until Robin had finished _making his deposit_ that the two of them turned and saw her in the doorway.

They gulped.

"Uh... hello, Alex," Robin panted, the humiliation flooding his features, "y-you know Kim, right?"

Kim bit her lip and gave a stupid wave.

"Hello," she said pointlessly.

Alex swallowed.

"W-well I _thought_ I did," she whispered before she gave a groan as it all became too much for her and she passed out in the wheelchair with a hefty flop.

Kim and Robin exchanged a guilty look.

"It's at times like this," Kim began, "that I wish I had some of Gene's smelling salts…"


	13. Chapter 6, 1996: Gene Approved

_**A/N: Just uploading a couple of shortish chapters together this morning – I hope everyone is having a lovely weekend :)**_

**Chapter 6: 1996**

"Maybe I finally did something right."

Those were the words Simon said to himself as he watched Gene in the kitchen, making coffee. It had been two weeks since their heart to heart and slowly but surely Gene was making progress. It wasn't as though he'd become a bundle of laughs overnight, of course he hadn't – he'd lost Alex and that was never going to change. But he'd started to make genuine and deliberate progress. He hadn't shelved the scotch but he was using it rather than abusing it; a glass or two to help him sleep or to take the edge off the lonely evenings, back to lattes in the day, starting to focus on getting himself together. He still had two more weeks before his sabbatical was over but Simon was feeling fairly confident that Fletcher would find Gene sober and together enough to resume his post.

Which, he had to admit, would be an absolute godsend. He might have been able to help Gene but he wasn't exactly enjoying his temporary post in charge of CID. He didn't know how Gene coped, he really didn't. It wasn't just the practical jokes he'd been subjected to, nor Eddie chasing everything in a skirt (including Terry when he decided to spend a day in drag for no apparent reason) or even trying to co-ordinate who was going on the latte run, but there were aspects of the job that just bewildered him.

For example, the previous week a new recruit had appeared, run down the corridor in a flap, demanded to know where her office was and then vanished immediately, having made a speedy recovery in the real world.

"What was the point of _that?"_ Simon had cried, slapping his forehead.

He was far happier in his own little department, even with the blubbering Vickery, and couldn't wait to get back to his own, quieter post.

Although Gene was doing a good job of straightening himself up, not all was well. While he'd stemmed his drinking a lot and started shaving and wearing clean socks at least once every three days he lacked a certain quality that he'd always had. When he'd spoken to Simon candidly about his past and what his job had meant to him he realised that same passion for his work had faded. He no longer cared the way he used to. He hated to admit that but things were not the same. His job had once been the focal point of his life, taking the place where the love of a good woman should have been. Then, when he'd _met_ that good woman and she shared the same fire for the job his relationship with Alex and his work had become intrinsically linked. Now he'd lost her, he didn't feel the same about his work.

He couldn't raise any enthusiasm for the thought of a good, high speed car chase or slapping cuffs onto some bastard who'd been causing trouble. He also couldn't find the same heart that he used to have for the other part of his role. He couldn't find the same drive to help people to pass on, to live their second lives, to face whatever troubles had dogged them in the past. He could feel himself turning into one of those cold hearted DCIs who just did their job; worked to rule. He hated that, but he couldn't change the way he felt.

He saw Simon at the doorway and pushed a mug across the kitchen table.

"Get that down yer neck," he said.

Simon wasn't used to Gene making the coffee. This was likely a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"Thanks," he said in surprise. He sat down and pulled the mug towards him, lifting it and taking a sip before spitting the hot drink across the table. _"Ugh!_ How many sugars are in this?"

"That is the Gene Hunt Approved amount of sugar," Gene told him, "No more, no less."

"The Simon Shoebury pallet does not agree," Simon attempted to wipe his tongue with his tie, "_Bleugh!"_

"Suit yer bloody self," Gene said crossly, "try to do a man a favour and get it spat back over the table at you!"

Simon felt a little bad about that.

"Sorry, Gene," he said, "it was a very kind gesture.

"Was it bollocks, just trying to keep meself busy," Gene mumbled.

He was finding it hard to fill the days. At least when Simon got home at night he could entertain himself expanding his repertoire of nerd and geek jokes. Until then he usually spent the day rearranging Simon's videos to piss him off and trying to avoid daytime TV. He understood now why Alex had hated being put on leave. He had almost reached the point of voluntarily watching one of Simon's Red Dwarf videos.

Almost.

He still had a little of his self-respect.

Two more weeks of this bollocks. He was going to go crazy before he had the chance to prove his sanity to Fletcher.

~xXx~

It was coming together at last.

Keats awoke every morning with a buzz of excitement running through his veins. The more he read and the more files he found, the closer he came to knitting the threads together. He still couldn't quite work out the hows or the whys but somehow the picture was starting to form and it absolutely blew his mind.

He'd taken up residence in his own basement, out of the sight of prying eyes. He really needed to be alone for this. Time by himself helped him to appreciate the full impact of the collection of information and the implications as he read the files over and over.

His collection of details had expanded. He'd gone on to procure medical records, personal documents and transcripts of counselling sessions, which all put together made for one hell of an interesting story.

"It's like a soap opera right under my own nose!" Keats cried with glee.

There was a secondary layer to his discovery; one that he wasn't sure he was ready to contemplate yet, a strange coincidence that went a little beyond what he was ready to think about but there would be plenty of time for that For now he needed to work out what he was going to do with all the information he held at his fingertips. The possibilities were endless. He could go at this from any one of a thousand angles. Of course, the most enjoyable aspect would be the torture. Oh, he did enjoy a little bit of that. He liked having power over people by knowing the little secrets that they either had no idea of or had no idea that he'd discovered. But it seemed that people weren't smart enough to get the hints. It didn't matter how blatant he'd been in his teasing of Alex for his discovery of her 2011 tattoo, she 'd been more or less certain that he was simply doing a bee impression every time he imitated the noise of the needle.

Or maybe he just needed to work on his impressions.

This time he would have to go for something a little more obvious. While he loved the cryptic messages that made the others think he'd lost the plot this time he needed Simon to get the message because – he was fairly certain – the moment that he did his whole world would come crumbling down around his ears.

"Now, how to set the self-destruct button…" he leaned back and sighed. He thought about taking a subtle approach or the full-on avenue. It was hard to know what to do. So many decisions to make. Perhaps revealing a little of the picture at a time – oh yes. See how long it took Simon to work it out. That sounded like a fair approach, with a little test thrown in as a bonus. Perfect.

"So," Keats sighed to himself, "which piece of the jigsaw shall I offer up first?" there were so many to choose from but somehow it seemed fitting to start with the same one that laid the foundations for his discovery. The file that launched a thousand smirks. Perfect.

"Now to pick the best time," Keats mumbled. Well, not while Gene was on his sabbatical. Where would the fun be in that? No, two more weeks and then – hopefully – Gene would be back at the helm and Simon would find an interesting file arriving on his desk. From there, Keats could sit back and enjoy the show.

It was going to be beautiful. _Really fucking beautiful._


	14. Chapter 7, 2011: Star Crossed

**Chapter 7: 2011**

"Erm…" Robin began nervously as Alex opened her eyes, "…sorry, Alex."

There was a momentary second of ignorant bliss in which Alex's memory hadn't quite kicked into gear, then the image of a sexed-up Robin and Kim doing the dirty on the hospital chair came back to her like a sledgehammer to the brain and she drew back a little with a gasp of horror.

"What the hell were you doing?" she cried.

Robin bit his lip, his body now made up of flesh, bones and guilt.

"Alex, I'm so sorry," he gabbled quickly, "We wanted to just tell you but they wouldn't let us because they said you weren't ready for shocks…"

"So you thought the graphic version would be less of a surprise?" cried Alex, her hand clutched to her chest, fearing she was about to go the same way as the physical therapist.

"You obviously weren't meant to _see_ that!" Robin's face was the deepest shade of red that Alex had ever seen.

"If you didn't want me to see it then why were you doing it in my hospital room?" she cried.

"B-because you weren't supposed to be back for twenty minutes!" cried Robin accusingly.

"It's not my fault the bloody physical therapist had a heart attack!" Alex cried, "and I almost followed suit, thank you so very much!"

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_ Robin protested. He looked at her as awkwardly as a person could possibly look at someone. She stared back at him, scarcely able to put what she'd seen into any kind of context. "Do… do you want me to give you a hand back into bed?" he asked uncomfortably.

Alex narrowed her eyes slightly.

"That depends."

"On?"

"Whether your hands are sticky." 

Robin cringed.

"No, they're not," he assured her.

"Then fine," Alex mumbled. She reached out and let Robin take her hands to help her from the chair to the bed, slid her legs under the covers and pulled the sheets around her like a child afraid of the monsters under her bed. When she had settled she looked at Robin with complete and utter confusion. "Robin… correct me if I'm wrong… but aren't you supposed to be gay?"

Robin looked down, hiding behind his floppy fringe.

"I _am _gay," He said.

"And Kim -?"

"- is gay too, I know, I know." He shook his head and sighed worriedly, "Alex, I wish I could explain it to you… but I can't… we can't even explain it to each other. And we've tried, believe me. We can't explain any of it. But me and Kim… we're…"

"Shagging," Alex filled in the gap.

"No, we're not _'shagging'_," Robin said a little indignantly.

"No? Then what do you call your live action porno movie?" Alex cried.

"I mean, we're…" Robin swallowed. It was still hard to explain, every time. Coming out in reverse was even harder than doing it the usual way around. "We kind of fell in love."

That Alex had not been expecting. She felt her jaw drop and her eyes widen as she stared at Robin. There seemed to be no coherent thoughts forming in her mind. She cleared her throat and tried to speak.

"You… _what?"_

Robin swallowed and looked her in the eye.

"We can't explain it, Alex. It just happened."

Alex hesitated. He seemed so awkward and embarrassed, not to mention anxious. Her initial horror started to fade and despite knowing that barring the invention of actual brain bleach she would be having nightmares about this for weeks she looked at him a little less harshly.

"But _how?"_ She tried to understand, "I mean, I think I must have missed something here."

Robin nodded slowly.

"You did," he said quietly, "about eight months of two thousand and eleven."

Alex looked around.

"Where's Kim?" she asked.

Robin bit his lip.

"She's, erm," he coughed, "getting cleaned up," he blushed again.

Alex cringed.

"Me and my big mouth." She looked at Robin. "I… I'm sorry, I kow I'm going round in circles, but… I don't understand how this happened."

Robin bit his lip.

"Neither do I," he said, "even now. It just _did_. After you went back to Gene, me and Kim… we got close. Just friends, but really close. We'd been through all that with you… it made us bond. And then we –" he hesitated. One shock for the day was enough – he had to be careful not to let the Keats/Layton hybrid attack slip out, "- we were involved with a case. Our lives were in danger and it was just… just so intense, we ended up –" his whole expression still spoke of surprise at the memory, "- _Kissing."_ He shook his head and looked down. "We played it off as being a gut reaction under pressure and danger, but then I couldn't stop thinking about her. She was on my mind all the time… I mean, seriously, every second of the day." He paused, a smile hovering on his lips. "And somehow, she was feeling that way about me, too."

Alex watched him, almost mesmerised by his words. This was so strange, so unexpected. But more than that, her fascination was with the look on his face. There was a look of peace and fondness that just seemed so beautiful.

"But Kim… she was married…?" for the first time Alex realised she hadn't even questioned why Kim was staying with Robin. She'd been so wrapped up in her own world with her recovery, the pregnancy and missing Gene that she hadn't even realised.

"She left her for me," Robin said quietly, still not quite believing that she'd made such a sacrifice, "she changed her whole life for me. Her wife…" he closed his eyes for a moment, "she says they _used_ to be happy. But all I ever heard about Linda was how she constantly tried to change Kim. Every word that woman said was critical. Their relationship was starting to go south long before we…" he bit his lip as he felt himself blushing. "It's not like we expected any of it, Alex. At the start, it was really bloody difficult. All the physical stuff… it was so hard to come to terms with."

"You didn't seem to be having that problem today," Alex couldn't help commenting which sent Robin's blush up a notch.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out," he said a little awkwardly. He shook his head. "I've felt so guilty," he said, "about Simon. Sometimes I still feel like I'm cheating on him. I don't know when or if I'll ever see him again, I have no idea what the future holds, but I just honestly never thought 'd fall in love again."

"I know," Alex said, a slightly distant smile on her lips, "I remember. You said as much when I was here before."

Robin looked down and smiled a little shyly.

"Kim's changed my life," he whispered, "on the surface we couldn't be more different, like chalk and cheese, but inside…" he looked back at Alex, his eyes sparkling, "we have the same outlook on life. She makes me feel like a reckless kid when we're together. She makes me feel good about myself… _really_ good. She's given me confidence I never had before."

Alex indicated his eyebrow.

"And the piercing and the tattoos…?" she asked.

"I didn't do it to impress her f that's what you're thinking," Robin told her, "she just unlocked another side of me. The side of me that was too afraid to experiment with the way I looked. Or the way I behaved." His face turned red again. "We have these… _moments…"_

"I think I already know enough about your _moments_," Alex blanched.

"I don't know what it is," he shook his head, "it was never like that with Simon. Our relationship… it was very different to me and Kim. I'll always love him… you know that's true…" he saw Alex nod, "but I couldn't keep trying to fight the way I feel about Kim. It was unexpected… unbelievable… and unexplainable. But it happened. And I thank my lucky stars every single day that it did, no matter how difficult the journey has been to get this far."

Alex felt herself tearing up a little. _Stupid pregnancy hormones_. A line ran through her head, something she'd said so many years ago. Funny how suddenly it seemed so appropriate all over again.

"_Sometimes you can't help which way you fall."_

Robin listened to her, then very slowly he nodded.

"Those are very wise words," he said quietly.

There was a very sheepish cough from the doorway and they looked around to see Kim standing there awkwardly, not sure if she should come back in or not.

"Uh," she began quietly, "can… I… just say how very sorry we are…" her face was red and her body language spoke of her guilt and embarrassment.

"I think I'll get over it," Alex said, a slightly awkward smile on her face.

Kim crept in and knelt beside Robin. She couldn't quite bring herself to sit in the other chair. Besides, it wasn't quite in the state they'd found it.

"I suppose it's too late to pretend you were hallucinating?" she asked.

Robin looked at her with a slightly sheepish smile

"I've told her everything," he said, "well… the best that I can."

Kim looked almost sad.

"We really wanted to tell you, Ma'am," she said, "we never wanted to keep it a secret."

"I know, I understand," Alex nodded. She looked at the two of them, watched their body language together. She thought back over all their visits and how they'd behaved in each other's company. The little touches, the glances and smiles, the little signs of affection that she'd missed before. There was something in the look that passed between them as Kim glanced up at Robin and her eyes shone just from being by his side. There was something really special there between them, Alex could see that. She couldn't wrap her head around it and she couldn't understand how they'd managed to adjust to a relationship what went so strongly against both their natures but she supposed they were just meant to be.

"I'm so happy for you," she whispered, realising just how long the odds were of them ever meeting. In a way it reminded her of herself and Gene; two people that by rights should never have met and then in the strangest of situations she'd found the love of her life. Love was rarely easy and never straightforward but, she supposed, Robin and Kim were a shining example of two people who'd gone through any lengths to make it work because their love was strong enough.

That gave her the boost she needed right then. If they could go against everything to be together then she would find a way home. Gene was waiting for her on the other side of the line, she was sure of that. If worlds were passing that close together then one day she'd find a way to make it back to the other side – even if she had to swing across on a bloody vine like a time-travelling, pregnant Tarzan.


	15. Chapter 7, 1996: Shoebury Files

**Chapter 7: 1996**

"One whole month, Gene."

Gene stood in Fletcher's office feeling somewhat humiliated, like a kid who was returning to school after a suspension for smashing up the toilets.

"Yes, sir."

"It's been a month since your sabbatical began and as you are standing in my office can I presume that you've managed to get yourself back on track?"

Gene hated this. He hated every second of it. He hated being under the microscope, hated having to defend himself and hated having his prior behaviour pointed out to him. He knew he was out of control and he knew that he behaved like a complete and total arse. He didn't need the torture to be drawn out. But for the sake of his job he sucked it up and simply said,

"Yes, sir."

Fletcher didn't like this any more than Gene. He knew that Gene was a proud, strong and hard man and this wasn't exactly going to please him, but he needed to make sure that he was ready to return to work. He sniffed the air surreptitiously. He couldn't smell anything resembling alcohol, nor could he smell B.O. or three-week-old socks. Gene was clean-shaven, his suit was smart and he seemed – externally at least – like the DCI Hunt that he knew.

"I'm glad to hear that, Gene," he said. He glanced at some papers on his desk. "Your appointment with the occupational therapist went well, I see," he frowned a little, "apart from the bit where you attempted to insert a stapler into his rectum for accusing you of having aggressive tendencies." 

Gene cleared his throat.

"He had it coming," he mumbled.

"Yes, well," Fletcher shuffled the papers, "on this occasion I'm prepared to let that go." He folded his arms and looked at Gene. "Do you feel ready to return to work?"

Gene gave a firm nod.

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't," he said.

"Good," said Fletcher, "in that case, you are cleared to return to duty."

Gene hated to admit it but there was a part of him the breathed a sigh of relief. The way he felt about his work might have changed and it might not be giving him the same satisfaction as it once did but he couldn't stand the thought of being ousted from his station.

"Thank you, sir," he said.

"Just make sure that you keep up the good work you've done while you were away," said Fletcher, "and if you start having problems again –"

"I'll be sure to find someone who I can jam a stapler up," Gene assured him.

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Fletcher frowned. He stood up and held out his hand. "Good to see you back on board."

Gene hesitated for just a moment before he shook he Super's hand, a little reluctantly. It all seemed a bit stupid to him, not to mention humiliating. But sometimes there were hoops to jump through, he knew that. This was just the latest in a long line of them, and hopefully he could get back behind his desk and forget the last month of daytime TV had ever happened.

"Good to _be_ back," he said.

~xXx~

"Get yer bloody nerd-fodder off me desk."

Gene plonked a heavy box in front of Simon who was adjusting the legs on his model Starbug. He glanced up, surprised but relieved to see Gene with his belongings.

"With pleasure," he said, scrambling to his feet. "I take it you're back on board then?"

"Yes, so if I find any more Red Dwarf related artefacts on me desk I'll eject them out the airlock," Gene threatened before flinching and cursing internally. _Air lock_ – bugger – a month in the home of Shoebury and the nerd speak was rubbing off on him. "Now get out me office and leave a man to do some rearranging and geek-disinfecting." 

Despite himself Simon couldn't help but smile.

"Glad to see you back," he said. He glanced out of the office into the rest of CID. He would be more than happy to leave that chaos behind. One more bucked of water propped above the door courtesy of Terry and he just might have to take a sabbatical of his own. He gathered up Starbug and one or two other items, then said, "I'll collect anything else up at the end of the day."

"I'll put anything I find in a geek-proof container," Gene told him,.

Simon smiled, then ducked out of the office to leave Gene to get acclimatised again. He couldn't wait to get back to his own job and his own office. A month with Terry, Bammo and the others, suddenly working with Vickery had never looked more appealing.

Gene watched him go, then looked down at his half-bare desk. Simon had never made himself at home there. He could see how much he'd hated his spell in charge. In a way that worried Gene. He hadn't exactly been thinking about hanging up his boots but he knew that eventually in the dim and distant future Fenchurch East would need someone else at the helm. Perhaps not until he swapped his Fiat for a walking frame, but someday _someone_ would need to take over. If Simon wasn't a willing candidate then he wasn't sure what was going to happen when that day finally arrived.

He stared out of the window into the car park. Nothing had changed, except the plant pots were looking slightly more traumatised than they used to be from his attempts at getting up close and personal with them during his more alcohol-independent phase. And yet something had fundamentally changed for Gene.

He turned and peered out of the office, into CID. Eddie was there, doing some paperwork. He'd neglected Eddie. He knew he had. Hadn't event taken the time to find out what the man was there for, why 1996 was 'his year'. He gave a deep sigh. Things were not the way they used to be. His heart had gone out of the place without Alex working by his side. They'd been an unbeatable team. Unbreakable. Now half the team was gone, Gene didn't feel 'right'. For the first time in his life in that world he started to think about passing through the doors of the Railway Arms. It was the first time he'd considered it seriously. There didn't seem much point staying where he was without Alex.

Then again, he couldn't leave Simon to the mercy of Bammo and Terry either.

He sighed as he sank into his chair. He wanted to reach for the scotch but decided on his first day back he should really avoid it. He shook his head as he put his feet up on the desk and leaned back. Here he was, in the place he'd spent the best part of sixteen years and yet he'd never felt so out of place.

~xXx~

Simon breathed a sigh of relief as he plonked his Red Dwarf-related artefacts down onto his desk and looked around the office. Apart from some emerging damp in the corners where Vickery had been blubbering it was more or less as he'd left it. He had never felt so relieved to be back at his desk. Gene's boots were just too big to fill. He felt more at home here in his own office ad although he still struggled to really feel a part of the world he felt for the first timer as though just maybe he was getting there, but by bit.

As he placed his starbug model and his signed photo of Rimmer on the desk he looked at the papers scattered across it. Vickery hadn't been doing the greatest job of keeping things in order. He sighed and brushed some of them to one side before his attention was caught by a large brown envelope laying on the top of the pile.

_For the attention of Simon Shoebury_

Curious. No postmark, yet it sounded to official to be something internal. He slid his finger into the side of the envelope and pulled it across, careful not to get a papercut, before peering inside and pulling out the files within. He looked at them in confusion, not understanding what he was looking at for some time. The files seemed ancient, and from another station.

"Manchester?" he mumbled as he caught sight of the details. Vickery dropped into the room momentarily to pick up his coat before going to hide in the toilets and Simon took the opportunity to ask,

"Did you see where this came from?"

Vickery glanced around.

"What?"

"This envelope. These files?" He noticed a blank look on Vickery's face. "Did they come with the post this morning?"

"Post hasn't been yet, sir," Vickery said, before making a speedy exit before he could stop him from returning to his toilet-hiding expedition.

Simon sank into his chair to look over the files properly. He couldn't understand why he'd been sent old files from another station, he certainly hadn't requested them and there were definitely no hi-tech crimes involved in a drunk and disorderly charge. He looked at the date – 7th June 1977. Why was he receiving files from that long ago?

The files were so unfamiliar and faded that he took a while to even find the important details of the case and when he did he hoped they might shed some light on the file's arrival. The last thing he was expecting was to see the name of his mother staring back.

_Marie Ann Shoebury; maiden name Hooper. Arrested for public disturbance, drunk and disorderly; released without charge_.

Simon stared at the words like they had no meaning. They didn't make any sense to him. None of it made sense. He knew that his knowledge of his mother's life was minimal; she'd died when he was still so young that he remembered very little about her and he had never really found the right moment to ask his father what she was like. Of course, now it was far too late. But why was his desk playing host to a file exposing some drunken night way back in the past?

"Where the bloody hell has this come from?" He demanded of the empty room. He couldn't make any sense of it. Had someone decided to dig up any dirt they could find on his family history? What good was that anyway, considering that he was an interloper and that the original Simon was a mere 18 years old in this world.

He glanced through the other files in the envelope; he didn't recognise the names of most of them but they seemed to share a surname. His mother's family. The forgotten branch of the family tree. He shook his head as a shiver ran down his spine. Someone was digging up his family history for reason or reasons unknown and he sure as hell didn't like it.

Just as he was about to storm security to ask about any strange people lurking around the station one line on the top file caught his attention. He hadn't seen it before, his own mother's name had side-tracked him from the other details but now it struck him like a knife through the chest.

"_What… the… fucking… hell…?"_ he breathed as he read the line over and over again. The words didn't change.

_Arresting officer: DCI Gene Hunt_

A cold boulder of steel sat in the pit of his stomach.

"What the fuck is going on?" he breathed.

Suddenly Gene's world didn't seem so far removed from the real one after all.


	16. Chapter 8, 2011: Roads Ahead

_**A/N: Sorry for the chapter spam today - Busy week ahead so I might not get a lot of writing done and I wanted to enjoy getting as much in this weekend as I could while I had the time :)**_

**Chapter 8: 2011**

"I can't believe it's been a month since you woke up, mum!"

Molly sat on the edge of Alex's bed, looking excited and bright. Alex couldn't believe it had been a month either. A month of missing Gene and her other life; a month of fighting hard every day to regain her strength a month of focusing on the moment she left hospital and began working towards a way home. She couldn't deny the guilt as she looked at her daughter's smile. There was so much she was keeping from her… her plans to find a way back to 1996 for one.

In all honesty she was no closer to finding her purpose for being back in 2011 or how to get back to Gene, but she knew that she needed to get out of those four walls for that to happen. She remembered her last trip back to 2011 – focusing on getting out of hospital first had led her to Robin and Kim and ultimately to getting home. While every day she longed to wake up in _her_ bed, in _her_ flat, with Gene by her side, in reality she knew that her priority was to get out of hospital first – after _that_, she would find her way home.

She felt a twitch as the baby shifted inside her and it made her smile, then immediately take on another wave of guilt. She hadn't told Molly about the baby. She didn't know what the hell she was supposed to say. She couldn't let her think that a random stranger had taken advantage of her mother while lying comatose in her hospital bed, but she couldn't tell her the truth either. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide it as her pregnancy progressed but she hoped she may never have to tell her the truth. If she could get back home soon then perhaps Molly would never have to know. In the meanwhile the loose gowns and bedclothes hid her growing belly and any other obvious body changes were explained as simply putting on the pounds after a long time in a coma.

Alex wasn't the only one keeping secrets though. Just as she was busy trying to filter the truth from Molly so Molly was biding her time about asking Alex the questions she'd been desperate to voice from the moment her mother awoke. Between careful warnings to keep Alex calm and simply not knowing how to ask, Molly had decided to wait until she was out of hospital to ask her the things she was desperate to know _– Who's Gene? Where have you been? Why couldn't you remember me before?_ There were so many others but they could wait just a little longer.

Eventually Molly got to her feet and said goodbye for the day as her lift home arrived. Alex was relieved to see her go, which she hated herself for. But the time she spent alone with Molly was awkward and stilted; too many secrets, too much time apart from each other and too much water under the bridge. She wasn't sure that, even if she stayed in the real world for forty years, she and Molly could _ever_ bridge that gap.

The next day was the first of December and Alex was due to be assessed for her suitability to be discharged from hospital. After much pleading, persuading, bargaining and a little threatening, the doctor had agreed for Alex to be released into the care of Robin and Kim, seeing as there was no next of kin to take the responsibility and it seemed the most positive solution all round. She needed to prove she could manage the stairs and there were papers of consent to sign but she was on the home straight now, she could feel it.

Two weeks had passed since she'd been treated to an unexpected – not to mention unwanted - live action show from Kim and Robin, and to be frank her nightmares were only just dying down. But in that time she'd observed the way that they were together and wondered how she had ever been so oblivious to their chemistry. While there was a part of her that wondered what on earth would happen if Robin and Simon were ever reunited she felt so pleased that Robin had found love again; the fact that he'd found it with Kim, someone who she'd come to know so well, was the icing on the cake.

Which led her to another reason to focus in getting out of hospital: Leaving the hospital food behind and enjoying home cooked meals courtesy of Robin and his flair for fine cuisine.

She couldn't stand to look at another plate of hospital cardboard. It was amazing she was starting to gain back any weight at all. She'd been grateful for the leftovers Robin and Kim had been sneaking in to her wherever they could but quite often she would rather have eaten the tick-box menu presented to her at the start of the day than the meal she'd chosen.

Two more weeks of DNA testing had passed by and of course there'd been no match found. There wasn't going to be, either. The sex offender register had been exhausted so now the rest of the database was being checked as a last resort. Alex felt somewhat uncomfortable about the whole investigation but her hands were tied. She had no choice in the matter.

As long as _she_ knew who her baby's father was then that was all that really mattered.

~xXx~

"Big day tomorrow."

Robin's words couldn't have been any truer. It was a big day all round. Alex's assessment would give them the go-ahead or otherwise to bring her home and let her stay with familiar friends rather than strangers, while Kim would hear whether she had passed her assessments and whether the post and promotion were going to be hers.

"I don't know what I'm more nervous about," Kim admitted.

"It'll all be fine," Robin told her. He laid his hands on her shoulders, "this time tomorrow we'll be celebrating your promotion with a bottle of champagne while trying to work out how to work a fucking sofa bed."

Kim's smile was nervous but she nodded.

"And fighting over who gets the first chocolate out of the advent calendar," she commented as Robin climbed into bed.

He'd quite forgotten the next day was the first of December. Christmas was closing in on them.

"We won't be fighting about that," he said.

"Oh, I think we will."

"We won't," Robin began cheekily, "because I've already bagsied it!"

"You can't do that!"

"Just did!"

"Oh _bollocks_ you did," Kim made sure her pillow hit him square in the head before she climbed into bed beside him, shuffled down between the sheets and switched off the light, "in that case I bagsy December the second through to the twenty fourth."

Robin pulled a face. He couldn't really argue against that one.

"Buy a second advent calendar tomorrow?" he suggested.

"Best plan yet," said Kim.

Robin smiled.

"Night, Kim," he said.

~xXx~

The road was blurry and hazy. She couldn't make out where they were going. The road signs were unclear… had a mist fallen over them or could she just not see? It seemed to go on forever, the journey that called her. She felt compelled to travel, destined to ride that road.

_I need to find him… I need to find who he was._

She didn't understand the thoughts that passed through her mind. She was thinking them but they seemed to come from some force outside of her.

_Still not at rest. Unsolved. He needs to be at peace._

Still the road went on outside the window. She couldn't see who was driving, her eyes were focused straight ahead, watching out of the window as the world passed by.

_Drawing closer now… closer with every passing moment…_

As the car drove into a tunnel and the darkness of the enclosure swept a sheet of black across her vision she awoke with a start, her heart racing in her chest. She gave a gasp and clutched the sheet in her fists. Her brow was damp with perspiration and she felt herself tremble just slightly. The dream had come from nowhere and, while a welcome change from nudie Kim and Robin nightmares, it had left her shaken and disturbed.

"Where was I going?" she whispered into the darkness, before her mind corrected her query, "where do I need to go?"

The pull she felt from the dream was with her still. She couldn't shake it. She felt herself drawn somewhere but she couldn't work out where. _Damnit,_ why weren't the details clearer? She couldn't figure out where she was heading or what she'd seen around her but she couldn't shake the feeling it was more than just a dream.

For a split second she felt very close to someone. Someone she missed with every breath.

"_Gene,"_ she whispered.

Her eyes closed. She could almost hear him snoring beside her. She could practically catch his scent. Oh, the worlds felt so close together right there and then.

She tried to settle back down but she couldn't stop her mind from going over and over the dream. She couldn't shake the images or the feeling that there was something she needed to do. Something that would help to lead her home.

"What do I need to do, Gene?" she whispered into the darkness.

But the whisper of his essence had gone and she was alone in the room once again.

~xXx~

Kim was awoken with a jolt as the duvet arrived over the top of her head. She blinked a few times and tried to work out where she was and what was happening. After a few moments she decided it was probably better to remove the duvet from her head so she could better place what was going on and that's when she found that Robin had gone, _again._ She looked at the clock. It was just gone four in the morning. Was this the second time Robin had gone to the bathroom? Third even? She peeled back the covers and lay silently, waiting for him to return. As soon as she heard his feet padding into the room she said,

"Rob, are you ill?"

Robin wasn't expecting her to be awake and he jumped at the sound of her voice.

"No," he said quickly, "I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You've spent half the night in the bloody bathroom," Kim groaned, "what was it, the Chinese?"

"What?"

"Have you got the squits?"

Robin froze, halfway into bed.

"No I bloody haven't!" he cried indignantly, "I just went for a wee."

"What about the other two times?" Kim asked.

Robin wasn't sure why he was getting the third degree all of a sudden.

"I had two prior wees," he said, "is that alright with you?" He started to feel a little guilty for snapping as he sank into bed beside her. "Sorry, Kim. I'm sorry for waking you and sorry for snapping."

Kim tried to settle back down as she turned on her side.

"It's OK," she said quietly, "can we just get some sleep now?"

Robin gave a yawn as he settled beside her, one hand on her arm.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "sorry again."

"Any more trips to the bathroom and I'm getting you a bedpan," Kim mumbled just before she drifted off with Robin not far behind.

They'd only been dosing for five, maybe ten minutes when a rumbling awoke Robin as it travelled through his abdomen. He opened one eye as though trying to work out what it was before he realised the hunger pangs he'd ignored during his last trip to the bathroom were coming on strong and letting him know in no uncertain terms that they were not going away. He tried to ignore them but the second growl was enough to wake Kim whose patience was wearing thin.

"Alright, Robin, what the bloody hell have you eaten? A lion? Clap of thunder?"

"I'm sorry," Robin started to feel self-conscious as it seemed his body was determined to show him up in a number of ways that night, "I guess I'm hungry."

"But it's-" she looked at the clock, "how can you be hungry when it's not even half four?"

"Well_ I_ don't know," Robin felt embarrassed and got out of bed.

"_Now_ where are you going?" Kim frowned.

"Well I can't stay here, can I?" Robin said crossly, "since I'm keeping you up with my bodily functions."

Kim rubbed her eyes as she watched him walk from the room in the dim light that penetrated through the curtains from the streetlight beyond. She scratched her head and tried to work out what was going on. He'd been up a few times the night before as well. She hadn't commented on it at the time because she knew he'd had a couple of coffees before bed but she was pretty sure he hadn't drunk enough to torture his bladder all night this time.

When she heard the clanking of pots and pans coming from the kitchen she couldn't ignore it any longer. Feeling wide awake now and annoyed, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and found him in the kitchen

"Rob, what the hell are you doing?"

"Making beans on toast," Robin said matter of factly as though it was something he did every night at half past four.

Kim's mouth hung slightly open as he tried to work out what was going on.

"But why?" she demanded.

"Just wanted some," Robin shrugged.

Kim paused in the doorway. She leaned against one side, narrowed her eyes at him and said,

"You're like a bloody pregnant woman."

Robin frowned, halfway through emptying out his tin of beans into the pan.

"What?"

"You've got no bladder control, you're getting cravings at weird times of the day –"

"I am not!" Robin cried, looking more than a little hurt.

"And now you're getting mood swings to match!"

Robin turned away as he finished emptying the beans into the pan. He swallowed and tried to hide how hurtful her words had been.

"Go back to bed, Kim," he said quietly, "I'll try not to disturb you."

Kim stared at him. Something wasn't right with Robin. She exhaled loudly and felt a little guilty for picking on him.

"Rob, I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I just need a good night's sleep, that's all. I'm at work early in the morning, you know how important tomorrow is."

Robin started to stir his beans as they gently simmered.

"I'll try to be quieter," he said, his voice wobbling slightly.

Kim frowned.

"Are you crying?" she demanded.

"No," lied Robin.

Kim began to point out that he clearly was but thought some time alone might be a better idea for him to calm down a little. Eventually she sighed and turned around.

"I'll see you back in bed when you've finished your beans," she said quietly.

"See you," Robin's voice was quiet and miserable.

As Kim traipsed back to the bedroom she started to think about how strange it was for Robin to cook something like beans on toast. Why wasn't he throwing together some kind of culinary masterpiece? She shook her head as she climbed into bed.

"Cravings indeed," she mumbled with a sigh. She swore to god if she heard him throwing up the next morning she was going to buy him a test.

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: Robin can blame Morgana for his torture in this chapter since her allegation that Keats had knocked Simon up with his satanic offspring in Chasing Rainbows led to me having a nightmare about a heavily pregnant, moody, craving-infested Robin instead which inspired this scene! Morgana, Robin says you'll be sorry if he turns up on your doorstep in labour at three o clock on the morning! Fetch the towels and the hot water! :D**_


	17. Chapter 8, 1996: Innocent Envelopes

**Chapter 8: 1996**

Simon stared at the papers again. He'd been doing that for days. The strange file had disturbed him deeply. He knew that his behaviour had changed as his worry and confusion had grown but he couldn't seem to stop himself from acting strangely. He felt like he was taking over where Gene had left off. Glasses of scotch had been finding their way into his hand and he'd been neglecting his work, but he couldn't get his head straight. It was screwing with his mind.

He couldn't figure out how it was possible for a start. Even if his mother had, somehow, ended up in a spot of trouble with the law one day it didn't explain how come _Gene_ was the one who'd slapped the cuffs on her wrists. And even if it was possible, which he still wasn't convinced about, then what was the file doing in his possession?

He thought about calling Manchester and asking them who'd sent the files but as the ones he had were copies he didn't even know of there would be a record of them being sent. Besides, there was no postmark – someone had hand-delivered the envelope to his desk. Who the hell had done that?

"_Oi, Shoebury!"_

Simon dropped the papers back into his drawer and slammed it shut quickly as he looked up at Gene in the doorway. His heart was racing. Why did he feel guilty? It wasn't as though he even _wanted_ to have those files in his possession.

"Hi, Gene," he breathed a little anxiously.

"Is anyone getting a latte this side of the millennium or what?" Gene demanded.

Simon closed his eyes as he exhaled. _The bloody latte run._

"Sorry, Guv, I forgot," he said quietly.

"Well remember to make it up to me by getting an extra one," Gene told him and set off back to his own office.

Simon found himself breathing a sigh of relief. He couldn't face the thought of having a lengthy conversation with Gene, whether that had been about some kind of case or the virtues of a latte. He could barely look him in the eye any more. Things had become very stilted with Gene still sleeping on his couch. Simon was spending a lot more time out at _Bask _again to avoid him and whenever they were both in Simon found a lot of reasons to hide in his bedroom. He must have reorganised his Smartie lid collection eighteen times in the last week.

He got to his feet, grabbed his jacket and left quickly to fetch the department's lattes for the morning. The sooner he got this over and done with the sooner he could go back to brooding again.

~xXx~

December was approaching fast. Gene couldn't help thinking back to the year before when Alex was adrift in 2011 with a pale imitation inhabiting her body. He shook his head and puffed out his cheeks as he gave a deep sigh. He wasn't fond of history repeating itself. Once was enough. He wanted Alex back. But this time months had passed with no sign. He'd given up on the idea of ever seeing her again now. That dream was over.

He thought back to the day he moved down south. Leaving Manchester behind had been a big wrench but – back there – his world was starting to crumble and he knew his job wasn't done yet. With Sam and Annie's departure, Ray and Chris should have been next. But Gene's memory wasn't the greatest back then and he just didn't know.

Would it be that bad to give up and move on? Was this the right time? He hadn't seen any stars but that didn't necessarily mean anything. His mind went back to months earlier when the Railway Arms was 'broken' and they'd marched so many of their previous colleagues back to the pub. Seeing everyone again had been fantastic. He hated to admit it but he missed them all. Even Malcolm. He'd just always assumed that, when the day finally came for him to head through those doors, he'd be sharing his first pint in the company of Bolly.

He sighed and shook his head as he watched Simon crossing the car park, heading out on the latte run. Leaving wasn't an option, not yet. He couldn't leave his station, his pride and joy, when there was no one strong enough to take the helm. For all his positive qualities Simon was happy to stay in the background, and Gene had learnt to respect that. But until such times as there was someone with the strength to take his seat, run his station and slam people into his filing cabinets then the pub was off limits.

~xXx~

Simon pulled his jacket around him as he marched to Latte Land, his head still full of files and worries. He couldn't shake them no matter what he tried. He found himself pausing outside of the leather shop and recalled the year before when a strange and ghostly voice had occasionally tried to impart advice. Most of which he had ignored, that much was true, but he regretted that now that he knew who it was.

Finally meeting the legendary Sam Tyler and knowing that he'd kept an eye on Gene from afar made a kind of sense to Simon. It seemed only right. Gene had spent the best years of his life… well, his death… looking after others and guiding them. It made a kind of poetic sense that his closest friend from those years now kept watch over him.

_Look after Gene for me,_ that's what Sam had told him.

"I've tried to do that," Simon protested to nothing and no one as he stood outside the shop. He paused, hoping that someone might pass on a few wise gems but the only sound he heard was a teenage lad sniggering at him for talking to himself. He groaned crossly and marched past the shop, off to Latte Land. "Where are your wise words when I need them, Sam?" he mumbled under his breath.

Gene was back at the helm and finding ways to cope but now Simon felt like his own life was falling apart. Didn't seem like a happy exchange somehow.

He bought the lattes and took them back, feeling like he was on auto-pilot, on which he remained during the rest of the day.

~xXx~

Eddie slouched along the street, hoping that the hours would pass quickly until opening time for Bask arrived. The nights were all he lived for at the moment. The 'dream' was starting to tarnish and he just wanted to go home. With December just around the corner he kept thinking about spending Christmas away from his friends and family. What the hell was he going to do when Christmas day came around and Bask was closed? He had nothing, no one and a never-ending dream of loneliness stretching out before him.

"Hello again Edward."

Eddie wasn't sure if the cold breeze that travelled down his spine was from the winter weather or some deeply-rooted instinct about the man who'd spoken. He glanced around to see the man in the long coat and the spectacles standing beside him.

"You again," he said, "And I told you, it's Eddie."

"Wondered if you were up for doing me another little favour," The man said to him.

Eddie shook his head and took a step back.

"I haven't seen what I was promised from the first one yet," he said.

"Thought the extra little wage packet I put through your door would have come in handy."

"That's not what I was talking about," Eddie hissed. He glared at the man. "You said home. _Home_, you promised. _You don't belong here,_ you said, _trust me and you'll be back with your family."_

"Things don't happen overnight," he smiled and spread his palms, "be patient. There's more work to be done." He slipped a hand inside his coat and pulled out a large brown envelope. "More files for Mister Shoebury. Just leave them on his desk, the same as before."

Eddie stared at the envelope.

"And you can't just put them there yourself because…?"

"Helping out a rival station with a delicate criminal case… can't be seen by my colleagues, can I?" the man's smile managed to be both creepy and charming at the same time, "Come on – think about it. Who else do you see offering you a lifeline? Hunt? Simon? Has anyone else told you they even know you're not from this place?" He watched Eddie swallow hard as his nerves began to grow and his defences weakened, "I'm working on it, Eddie. Your one-way ticket home. But there are things you need to do here first. You can't leave until you've helped to solve a long-buried secret. Once the case is solved and the connections are made then you'll be heading off to the life you knew. The world that fits you like a glove. And the next step is getting these files to Simon so he can start to knit the clues together." He held the envelope forward. "One little envelope. That's all."

Eddie stared at the envelope in his hand. He swallowed hard but couldn't shift the lump in his throat. Finally he reached out and slowly took the envelope as his heart thumped in his chest.

"This is the last time I'll do this," he said, his voice shaking just a shade.

"Your help is greatly appreciated," the man smiled.

Almost as quickly as he'd appeared from nowhere he seemed to vanish too. Eddie shuddered as he stared at the envelope in his hands. It seemed like an innocent package. How could a few files hurt? But then why did he have a nagging feeling that this wasn't going to lead to anything good?

But no one else had acknowledged his situation. No one else had accepted that he didn't belong in that world. The strange man in the specs was the only one who had told Eddie to his face that he knew he didn't belong and that he could find him a way home. With no other ally he had no choice but to trust him, for now, and hope that his job was almost done.


	18. Chapter 9, 2011: Desktop Publishing

**Chapter 9: 2011**

Kim raised an eyebrow as a slightly green Robin took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Morning," she said.

Robin looked at her a little sheepishly.

"Morning," he said awkwardly.

Kim took a mouthful of her coffee, swallowed and lifted her toast.

"Have you finished being a pregnant woman now?" she asked.

Robin bit his lip.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said, embarrassed.

Kim munched on her toast before asking,

"And how are you today?"

Robin supressed a belch.

"The beans at half past four _might_ have been a mistake," he conceded as his heartburn made him flinch.

"As long as you're suffering from over-indulgence and not morning sickness I don't mind," said Kim. She laid down the rest of her toast. She couldn't face it. The big moment was looming and she knew that there was no changing it – pass or fail, she would soon find out for sure. She got to her feet to throw the rest of her breakfast away and Robin scrambled to his feet hurriedly.

"Kim," he said quickly. She turned around to see him rush towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Whatever happens today," he began, "I am really bloody proud of you."

Kim looked down a little awkwardly with a smile and a blush. She wasn't used to praise, she had to admit. Linda had never been the most encouraging of souls. This was something new for her. She wasn't quite sure how to react to that.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"There'll be champagne tonight," Robin promised her.

"Should you be drinking in your condition?" Kim asked innocently.

"Bugger off to work," Robin told her, pointing to the doorway and trying to keep a straight face. He soon succumbed to a smile though and gave her a quick hug. "Kim, you'll be fine," he said with a nod, "now go and get your promotion so I can take some antacids without getting stick from you."

Kim smiled and kissed him goodbye before she grabbed her bag and coat and set off for the station. Her nerves were reaching sky-high proportions but there was no delaying it. It was time for the moment of truth.

~xXx~

Alex picked at her breakfast as her dream played over and over in her mind. She couldn't manage to push it from her thoughts at all. She shuddered as she recalled how close she'd felt to Gene as she awoke in the night, as though her dream had pulled her near to him or brought the worlds a little closer together.

_He needs to be a peace._

Those words stayed with her as she tried to remember the other thoughts that passed through her head in the dream.

"I wish I knew how, Gene," she whispered, "tell me what to do and I'll do it. Is this how I get back?"

She fell silent and waited as though expecting him to reply or hoping to hear his voice as a whisper on the breeze but there was nothing to be heard except for the sound of a bird tweeting outside. She sighed and closed her eyes. The sooner she was out of that place, the better. She had no way of working this out while stuck within the stark white walls, even if she had a hundred notebooks to try with.

"Why aren't you a peace, Gene?" she closed her eyes, remembering the news report that filtered through her original coma; the body, the scarecrow, the field... What happened to him after that? She shook her head slowly. She had no idea.

_Focus, Alex. Focus on proving yourself and getting out of here. That's step one._

Then, step two?... she thought for a few moments.

"A bloody big notebook and a ten-pack of pens," she nodded confidently to herself.

~xXx~

Kim paced in the office, her stomach churning like an angry washing machine. Oh _god,_ forget Robin's _morning sickness_, she could just about throw up from nerves. She'd been waiting for half an hour already. Where the hell was DCI Huston? He was supposed to have been there long before now.

She glanced at the empty desk where DI March had previously been placed. One night of foolishness with a webcam and a cardboard cut-out of an incarcerated drug baron and the man's career was over. She was slightly disturbed to find that an alarming amount of March/Nailer graffiti had appeared around the station in the last few weeks, some of which was extremely anatomically accurate. It reminded her of the good old days, back in the nineties, the veritable array of artwork that would appear in the toilets every time Simon had a trouser tent or got assaulted by half the staff of Woolworths. True, _she'd_ drawn half of it but, _oh,_ the nostalgia was here.

"Good morning, Stringer." 

Kim almost had a heart attack ad DCI Huston breezed by. She spun around on the spot.

"Uh. Hello, sir," she swallowed nervously.

"Come into my office for a moment," he said.

Kim took a deep breath and followed him in, hoping her half-a-breakfast was going to stay down. This wasn't like her. Why was she so anxious about this? It wasn't as though she'd re-entered the force with the intention of climbing the ladder. Progression hadn't even been in the equation for her. She just wanted to get back to helping people and solving crimes. God, now she sounded like she was auditioning for a part in _Chip N Dale Rescue Rangers._

"Take a seat," The DCI told her, indicating the chair opposite his desk.

Kim sat down nervously. She cleared her throat and bit her lip.

"Thanks you," she said quietly.

Huston consulted a file on his desk for a few moments, then looked up at her. For a moment his expression was unreadable but finally it relaxed a little.

"Congratulations, Stringer," he began, "I think you've found your niche." 

Those words took Kim by surprise.

"I… have?"

Huston nodded.

"Training passed with honours," he said, "the assessing team were very impressed."

Kim found herself biting her lip in a very Robin-like way.

"They… _were?"_ she said almost incredulously. She hadn't been expecting this at all. The training had been such a departure from the work she had done previously that she wasn't sure how well she'd done. There were so many layers of irony as she thought about her exit from Gene's world, a desperate situation calling upon her to deal with a hostage situation when no on else was available. And now all of this had happened just as Alex had woken up. There were patterns and parallels aplenty.

"Now, obviously there's a lot of official tape to get through and there will be plenty of papers to sign but that desk out there is yours from today, presuming you want it?"

Kim found it hard to believe that this was really happening. She wondered if she was having a weird dream or if I was all a big joke, things seemed to have happened so quickly – but Huston was deadly serious.

"I… I do," she said in something approaching bewilderment, "very much. Thank you, sir, I'm…" she wasn't used to being so lost for words, "…not sure what to say. _Thank _you."

Huston stood up and held out his hand.

"Looking forward to working with you, Detective Inspector Stringer," he said."

Kim swallowed and felt her hand trembling a little as she shook his. It all seemed unbelievable. She tried hard to fight the wide, cheesy smile that was threatening to appear on her face. That would bugger up her street cred for life.

"Thank you, Sir," she said again, her mind racing. The year had taken so many unexpected twists and turns that she just couldn't help wondering what was going to happen next. A lottery win? Being crowned Queen of Fenchurch? A place on the first manned mission to Mars? She decided to stop letting her mind wander to extremes as she allowed Huston to walk her to the door of his office.

"A word to the wise about your desk," he said, pointing to the one she had regarded earlier, "now, we have done our best to remove all of the graffiti but it still has an air of Nailer-obsession about it. We couldn't quite get rid of the obscene limerick, no matter how many coats we painted over it."

Kim swallowed, a little nauseous.

"Uh, I think I will be OK," she gulped, already mentally purchasing a pen pot to place over that particular spot.

She walked across to the desk and took a seat there, a little awkwardly. It all seemed so strange. She ran her hands across the desktop. It was certainly a classier affair than the one she'd been used to, despite the appearance of words still showing through the glossy black paint saying; _There was a drug dealer called Nailer, who was thought to be hung like a –" _

The last word was missing, but Kim's subconscious kindly filled it in for her which made her gag.

"This just arrived for you, Ma'am."

Kim glanced up to see a man with a freshly-delivered package. She felt a little strange. _Ma'am _– that was going to take some getting used to. She cautiously took the package addressed to DI Stringer.

"Uh, thank you," she said quietly. She bit her lip as the man walked away. How was she getting post already? She'd only just got the job. Cautiously she opened the padded envelope and out slipped a name block for her desk; _D.I. Kim Stringer._ There was an invoice packaged up with it in the name of Robin Thomas. She chewed on her lip as she tried not to smile. She had to work harder and harder at that these days.

Picking up the phone on her desk she dialled a familiar extension and waiting. After a couple of rings Robin answered.

"Robin Thomas?"

"How on earth did you know, Rob?" were her first words as she turned the block over and over in her hands.

There was a moment of silence.

"So you got it then?"

"The job or the present?"

Robin hesitated.

"Both."

Kim smiled.

"_Both,"_ she said. "Thank you."

"Congratulations, Kim," she could hear him grinning on the line, "I told you, didn't I?"

"Did someone tell you that I'd got it?" Kim asked.

"No," Robin said honestly.

"Then how did you know I would?"

"Because," Robin began, "I know _you."_

Kim gave another distant smile while no one was around to see. She closed her eyes for a moment.

"Thank you," she said again. She tried to pull herself together. "Listen, I'd better go. There's some graffiti about a certain drug baron on my desk that I need to cover up before I _throw_ up. We're meeting for lunch, right?"

"Right."

"I'll see you then," Kim told him before they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Kim hoped her good news wouldn't be the last piece they'd receive that day. She knew in hospital right then Alex was trying to prove her worth. Maybe by the end of the day there would be another piece of news to celebrate.

Her fingers ran back and forth across the desktop again as she thought about that, until she felt a slightly rough area and looked down. Although the desk had clearly been painted over several times there was a dent in the wood where something had been engraved some time ago. She traced over the lines with her fingers, trying to make out what I said but the light wasn't shining at the right angle to see and she couldn't quite tell with her fingertips.

Rummaging through the drawers she found a pad of paper and a pencil. Tearing off a sheet from the pad, she laid it across the top of the desk and gently shaded across it until, little by little, the carving was revealed. She took the paper away and looked at it closely.

_6-6-20_

Kim's blood ran cold. The world stopped turning around her as she ran her fingers back and forth across the dents in the surface of the desk. She remembered those numbers. She'd seen them before. She remembered them on a desk back in Gene's world. She tried to place exactly where they were. Was it Susannah's desk? Yes – tha was it. When Susannah was Gene's DI she recalled seeing those numbers etched into her desk. They looked as though they'd been there for years.

"But they can't be _here," _Kim breathed. They were in a different world, a different plain – they couldn't just turn up on a desk in the real world. In _her_ world, on _her_ desk. She swallowed as she stared at the rubbing on the piece of paper before her and found herself shaking. How was this possible? A baby skipping from one world to another had been strange enough, but a _desk?_

_Her_ desk.

Why had fate brought her to that desk anyway? She shook her head as the concept started to overwhelm her. She couldn't believe it or understand it but somehow, here it was. Now she would be counting the hours until lunchtime – she needed to talk to Robin about this before the timeless graffiti drove her crazy.


	19. Chapter 9, 1996: Pizza Glut

_**A/N: Well, guess what happened? I killed my laptop. It could not take the ficcing any longer. A 6 month old laptop and I have actually WORN OUT SOME OF THE KEYS! They were slowly starting to lose the will to live and by last night the T, E and O keys no longer worked. A shift key also conked out. Bit by bit the keys coughed and spluttered and went to a purgatory for keys that have issues to work out. So I have had to buy an external keyboard – which is just as well I guess since the only letters still visible on my laptop were Q, Z, X, F, V and J which hadn't exactly been helping my typing! Seriously, my laptop must really hate me for these fics!**_

_**Anyway, the new keyboard is taking me some getting used to (REALLY hard not to keep going back to the laptop by accident!) so I gave it a good test run on these chapters! Two to upload today. By the way, I'm sorry the 1996 chapters are shorter than the 2011 ones at the moment; in the first half of the story there's more going on in 2011 and then the action flips halfway through :)**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 9: 1996**

Simon sat on his bed, staring at the walls. He felt as though he was going slowly crazy. With a sigh he opened the drawer of his bedside cabinet and pulled out a handful of photocopies. He opened hem up and began to spread them across his bed. It had been some time since he'd made them and he rarely looked at them. It was a little too painful to look at them often but right then he really needed to see them again.

His eyes cast across the pictures of his very young self with his two older sisters, his father and the one lone picture of his mother. He remembered how much trouble he'd been in when he attended the call at his family's house after the attempted arson attack on their home, and how much that had increased when he saw fit to _borrow _a family photo album, but he was eternally glad that he had done.

At least now he had a small number of family pictures. He wished that there had been more of his mother in the album but as she'd been the one with the camera most of the time there were not many pictures of her in existence. He was lucky enough that he'd grabbed an album from a year before she died.

His mind went back to Gene's comments from back when he saw the pictures in the album.

_"Looks familiar… You say she had family in Manchester?"_

Simon bit his lip as he remembered it. He also remembered the comment he responded with –

_"Why have I got this horrible feeling you're about to tell me you've got them all banged up in some Mancunian prison?"_

Suddenly that didn't seem too far from the truth.

"Shit," he breathed, rubbing his forehead and his face roughly with his hands.

"_Shoebury, pizza's here,"_ Gene's voice called him away from his thoughts, "_are you coming out yer room or do I have to eat both of them?"_

Simon gave a sigh and put his photocopies away, then left the confines of his room to face Gene in the kitchen, brutally hacking up a pizza with a breadknife.

"Couldn't find yer little pizza wheely thing," he explained.

Simon ignored he pizza murder scenario completely and sat quietly at the table for a few moments before he chanced a question.

"Gene?"

Gene lumped a pizza towards Simon in several large chunks, not necessarily following the traditional wedge shape that most people choose to go for.

"Hmm?"

Simon bit his lip.

"Have you ever met anyone with my surname before?"

Gene looked at him with a frown.

"Congratulations Simon, you've won the prize for the most bizarre question of the year," he said as he lifted up a cheesy slice and started to shove it mercilessly into his mouth.

"Seriously," Simon said, "have you ever met another Shoebury?"

Gene swallowed his mouthful as he looked at Simon's strangely troubled expression.

"I don't know, Simon," he gave a shrug, "I've met a lot of people. Hazard of the job. Met yer sister when that twat tried to flambé yer 'ouse."

Simon hesitated, picking a little at the topping on his pizza.

"How about before that?" he asked, "in Manchester?"

"Why, tracing yer family tree?" asked Gene.

Simon looked down.

"Something like that" he mumbled. He cautiously picked up a slice of the butchered pizza and started to eat it but every mouthful seemed to take forever to chew. He had no appetite. After three bites he put it back in the box and looked a Gene again. "Do you recognise the name Hooper?"

Gene shrugged.

"I recognise a lot of names. Couldn't give you a bloody breakdown of them though. What's all this about?"

Simon felt a little sick at the thought of even explaining.

"You know I said I had family in Manchester…?" he began.

Gene sighed, put down his pizza and wiped his hands on his trousers.

"Simon, we already went through this. Going and meeting yer family is not a good idea."

"No, no, I didn't mean… I wasn't going to go storming off to Manchester on the lookout for the missing branch of my family tree!" he sighed. He should have known his little venture into his old family home would come back to haunt him. "It's just…" he trailed off and swallowed hard. Gene was staring at him as though he was slowly losing the plot. "Nothing. Doesn't matter."

Gene carried on staring. He was expecting Simon to carry on or to explain but he left it at that and turned his attention to picking bits off his pizza and finding ways to avoid eating them.

"You gonna leave me hanging all night, Shoebury?" he asked, "that can't be it? Come on. Simon. I know you. What do you want to say?"

Simon sighed and shook his head slowly.

"Nothing," he said quietly, "I don't want to say anything."

"Then eat yer damn pizza and be grateful I paid for the bloody things. You want to know how often I buy someone food? Comes around less often than leap year."

Simon tried to force as much of the pizza as he could but every mouthful was like trying to swallow sawdust. It caught in his throat and sat in his stomach like a boulder. He looked at Gene as he shovelled another slice into his mouth. Gene didn't seem to have any idea what he was talking about. Had he forgotten? He knew Gene's memory of his years before Alex was hazy at best.

He looked back down at his pizza. The fact of the files appearing started to worry him again. He didn't know where they had come from but more than that he didn't know why. Was it supposed to put a wedge between himself and Gene because if so it was working – he couldn't look at him without thinking about it. Or was it supposed to show him a different side of his mother? That she had a skeleton lurking in the closet? Simon couldn't deny he was shocked – he'd never heard about such an incident before, but one drunk and disorderly, released without charge wasn't exactly putting her on the same level as Nick Nailer, was it?

"Are you eating any more of that?"

Simon glanced up as Gene's slightly miffed tone pulled him out of his thoughts. He found that while his mind had been wandering Gene had cleared his pizza completely and was now eying up what was left of Simon's – which happened to be most of it. He sighed and pushed the box in Gene's direction.

"Have it," he sighed.

"You're not going back into yer starvation mode, are you?" Gene asked.

Simon shook his head.

"I'm just not feeling hungry, that's all," he said. He got to his feet and hovered a little awkwardly. "I think I might go to _Bask_," he said, "see if I can catch Eddie and the others." He bit his lip a little guiltily. All he'd done was leave Gene with the TV since those papers had arrived on his desk. "Do you… want to come?"

Gene chewed another mighty chunk of pizza and swallowed it.

"Think I've put _Bask_ to bed, Simon," he said. It had been a long time since he'd been there, even when Alex was still part of the world. They'd both decided to move on and Simon had taken over as a nightly fixture there. He nodded and gave Gene a slightly awkward smile.

"I'll see you later then," he said as he moved towards the door, glancing back as Gene managed to finish a surprisingly large chunk of pizza in one go. "That's if you've not slipped into a pizza coma by the time I get back," he said, feeling quite relieved that he wouldn't be around to see him finishing the end of the meal. There was only so much he could take of Gene's prime pizza-eating skills.

~xXx~

"One more envelope," Eddie mumbled to himself. He found his heart was thumping, surely that should have told him this was wrong. That should have been the giveaway. He should have trusted his gut on this one, but he didn't - he trusted the strange man in the coat and the glasses that told him tales of home because it was the first time that someone had made him feel as though he wasn't crazy after all.

He held the thin package on his hands and stared at it one last time. _"Attn: DCI Simon Shoebury,"_ It said.

What the hell case was this anyway? Eddie shook his head as the papers almost seemed to burn him. He quickly dropped them on Simon's desk and retreated as quickly as he possibly could from the office before anyone saw him and wondered what he was doing there so late.

_Maybe this really would be it,_ he thought. Maybe he'd go to bed tonight and wake up tomorrow back home, with all of this being just a bad memory. Maybe.

But just in case, he thought, it might be a good time to go and get a stiff drink. Up his alcohol levels, make sure he'd be asleep when his head hit the pillow. Because the world was dragging him down, little by little, and as the pages of the calendar took him closer to Christmas so memories were coming forth. Ones that he didn't want to face.

"I just want to go home," he muttered to himself as he passed through the doorway and out into the car park.

But what you want and what you get are two different things.


	20. Chapter 10, 2011: Sproutless Wonders

**Chapter 10: 2011**

It didn't matter how long Kim had been back a Fenchurch East, she still couldn't get used to visiting the canteen and not finding the woman with the fat arse serving. The fact that it was the first of December and sprouts had not yet infiltrated the food selection was a major indicator that she wasn't there. She recalled her one Christmas in Gene's world and the horrors of the sprout-obsessed menu. The memory still made her want to throw up. The sprout fumes had clung to the walls of the station for months afterwards.

She spied Robin already sitting down and tucking into his lunch as she paid for her food and carried her tray across to him. Having spent the morning doing her best not to smile in public she finally let her grin break loose in front of Robin.

"I got it!" her words were full of excitement. She hadn't realised how much she wanted the job until she was told that it was hers.

Robin's proud smile was even more of a reward than the promotion.

"What did I tell you, Kim?" he beamed, "I _knew_ you'd get it. You deserved it, you really did."

Kim attempted to open her sandwich, cut her finger on he plastic case, swore profusely and decided to start with a chocolate bar instead She was a bloody DI now, if she wanted to start with the chocolate then she though she'd earned that right. She glanced at Robin's meal which was extremely _not-Robin-like_; a nominal number of chips with a large quantity of baked beans.

"So your little heartburn issue hasn't put you off the beans then?" she frowned.

Robin looked a little awkward with a fork full of them halfway up to his mouth.

"Couldn't find anything else I wanted," he said, a hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks. Kim couldn't remember ever seeing Robin eat baked beans before. Actually, no, he'd eaten them _once_ when a random stray cat got in the flat and jumped right in the lasagne he'd made for dinner so emergency rations were drafted in. But nonetheless, this was a very strange occurrence indeed. However, Kim decided to ignore it – there were more important matters to deal with than a sudden bean obsession.

"Rob," she began awkwardly, "does the number _six-six-two-oh_ mean anything to you?"

Robin considered, then shook his head.

"Not that I can think of," he said, "why?"

Kim slowly let out her breath.

"I know you were only in Gene's world for a few days but do you ever remember seeing the number carved into a desk?" she asked, "_Susannah's_ desk?"

Robin chewed some beans thoughtfully as he tried to remember.

"Susannah," he repeated "was she the one that kept giving everyone first aid? Whether they needed it or not?"

Kim nodded.

"That's the one."

Robin shook his head slowly.

"I kind of remember her," he said, "buy I don't remember her desk. Sorry." He hesitated as he realised what a weird question that was. "Why did you ask?"

Kim looked down and played with her chocolate bar. She felt a little nervous suddenly.

"I don't really know how to say it," she whispered.

"Say what?" Robin began to worry, "what's happened, Kim?"

Kim bit her lip and looked up at him, a serious stare in her eye.

"I got a new desk." She said quietly, "lovely big thing it is. All sleek, freshly painted… small amount of obscene graffiti, but…" she shook her head slowly. "I felt these grooves in the surface like someone had engraved something. Well, me being me I was being nosy and took a rubbing. Six six two oh." She paused, "Rob, there was a desk in CID back in the nineties that had that engraving. It was the desk where Susannah used to sit but it could have been there for a decade or two. I remember it clearly. I was so weird… _random_." She swallowed, "how the hell is that desk here?"

Robin stared at her, trying to make sense of what she had said.

"You're saying a desk… hopped dimensions?" he frowned.

"Oh Rob, come off it, this is me and you we're talking about," she hissed, "I'm not arsing around and you know how much weird shit's been happening. Don't start doubting me, that desk was there in Gene's world and now it's here, in ours."

Robin froze, the power of her words reminding him this was a deadly serious incident. He knew better than to play it down or to try to find an alternative solution. He looked down awkwardly and closed his eyes for a moment.

"I can just about cope with the idea of Alex's baby somehow coming over with her when she woke up," he began quietly, "but I really can't wrap my head around this."

"It looks like it's been painted over several times," Kim told him, "I know they've painted it _recently_ because…" she bit her lip and turned slightly green, "well, when March started developing his Nailer fetish he also discovered the joy of graffiti. And poetry."

"Ugh," Robin laid down his fork. He suspected that might be as much as he was going to eat for one lunchtime.

"I never knew what the number meant," Kim continued, getting back on track, "It was just one of those things that was always there. I never really questioned it."

Robin looked at her a little worriedly.

"We're going to have to tell Alex about this," he said.

"Do you think that's alright?" asked Kim, "I don't want to give her one of those 'shocks' she's supposed to be avoiding."

"I think this is sort of different," Robin told her, "Mostly the 'shocks' were things that had happened while she was comatose. But this directly relates to something from the other world. She might even want to hear about it."

Kim hadn't thought of it that way.

"That's a good point," she nodded slowly.

"We'll ask her what the number meant when we go to the hospital later," Robin told her, "and hopefully she can fill in a few of the gaps for us."

"I hope so," Kim nodded, She was feeling shaken by the whole thing, partly because of the idea of the desk somehow heading from one dimension to another but mostly because it had made her wonder exactly what the implications were for herself. She knew ending up at that desk was no accident. But what it meant for herself, she wasn't sure she could cope with thinking about yet.

~xXx~

"Come on, Alex, you can do this!"

Was the bloody nurse trying to be encouraging? Patronising, yes. Annoying, definitely. But encouraging? She sounded more like she was training a dog to run through an obstacle course.

The stairs were like a mountain, stretching out ahead of her. They were the obstacle remaining on her path to freedom. She needed to prove she could climb them confidently and safely to be allowed to stay with Robin and Kim, otherwise she would be stuck in hospital for even longer.

"Come on, Alex – imagine there's a big cake at the top!"

OK, that was it. Now Alex really wanted to punch her. She wasn't a violent woman by nature but there were certain individuals she would gladly make an exception for and this was one of them. For goodness sake, a bloody big _cake?_ What sort of an incentive was that? This was one of the hardest physical tests she'd ever faced and her goal was far more important than some kind of dessert. Her goal was getting out of that place, which was the first step to getting home.

There was no way in hell that she'd be putting in all this effort if the only thing she had to look forward to was a big cake, even if it was one that Robin had made. Even if it was like the one they'd smuggled her in a slice of the week before, with the gooey icing dripping from inside and the crumbled chocolate on the top. Even if it was one of the moist, soft, chocolaty creations that Robin could cook up. Even if it was –

Oh. She seemed to be at the top suddenly. Maybe the cake really was a better incentive than she'd thought?

"Well done, Alex!" the patronising nurse confirmed Alex's hatred for her as she gave a round of applause, "now… you just need to show that you can manage to get back down again!"

Alex closed her eyes and gave a grumble of frustration. Bloody typical. Couldn't she have a rest first? Apparently not. With a groan of frustration she slowly and carefully turned around, gripping the railings, and began to cautiously lower her foot to the next step.

"Come on," she muttered to herself, "last challenge. Home stretch. Almost there."

"And imagine there's a big bowl of ice cream in it for you!" the nurse chirped.

Alex scowled.

_Or a large blunt instrument_, she thought to herself.

~xXx~

Robin hovered nervously around Kim's car at the end of the day.

"Ready?" he asked.

Kim nodded.

"I hope she's done alright," she said.

"I tried to call the hospital to see if her assessment had gone well but they put me on hold to _Girlfriend In A Coma_ for half an hour and I decided it was probably a good idea to hang up," Robin told her.

Kim pulled a face and climbed into the car.

"Why did you walk to work this morning?" she asked.

Robin climbed into the passenger seat and shuffled uncomfortably.

"Felt a bit off-colour," he mumbled.

Kim started the car and they began their journey to the hospital, knowing that Alex's fate depended on how well she had done that day. They all knew that the longer she spent in hospital the longer it would take to help her find a way home. It was strange, but believing that Alex was stuck in the present had not been an option for either Robin or Kim. They knew how desperately she needed to get home so neither had even considered the fact that she might not be able to.

"We'll order that sofa bed tonight," Kim told Robin, "all we'll need to do is move the two chairs out and there'll be plenty of room."

Robin nodded, staring straight ahead.

"Yeah."

"You've got that little combi TV in the cupboard from your old place," Kim reminded him, "we can set that up for her and she can use my old laptop." She hesitated, "the one _without_ the porn on it." she paused, waiting for a response from Robin, expecting him to blanch in horror at the memory of Alex uncovering Kim's extensive computerised stash during her last trip to 2011 but he stayed silent. "Rob?" she glanced at him and saw him looking slightly green. "Rob, what's wrong?"

Robin swallowed.

"Nothing, just feeling a bit car sick," he said quietly.

Kim frowned.

"You?" she cried, "the man who said to me the other day _'Whenever I go back to the other world I'm going to ask Gene Hunt for some driving lessons'?"_

"Must have a bug then," Robin said quietly.

Kim glanced at him with a frown, then shook her head. Something most definitely wasn't right with him that day but she didn't want to get into an argument so she carried on driving – as slowly and smoothly as possible – to the hospital.

X

They quickly hurried to Alex's room where she was laying back in bed, looking thoroughly exhausted. She opened one eye as she tried to fight sleep and smiled.

"I think I did OK," she said.

"Alex, you look knackered," Robin observed.

"Top notch investigative skills at work there," Kim commented as they sat down just before Alex's doctor came in.

"Hello again," he said amiably.

Usually the doctor was the last person Kim or Robin – let alone Alex – wanted to see but for once they were delighted by his presence.

"So?" Kim prompted, "how did things go?"

The doctor pulled a chair towards him and prepared to sit down.

"Well Alex's physical assessment went very well…" he began, then frowned, "what's this big stain?"

Kim and Robin glanced at the chai then guiltily at each other. Robin bit his lip.

"Erm, I think I spilt something on there a couple of weeks ago," he said awkwardly, watching Kim and Alex both turning interesting shades of red at the memory of the unfortunate incident.

The doctor decided to remain standing.

"As I was saying, Alex has made excellent progress since awakening. She has passed her assessment today and has been cleared for discharge."

A noise of delight and relief came from Alex.

"Oh thank god!" she cried before looking a little guilty, "sorry."

Her doctor frowned.

"Yes, quite," he cleared his throat, "she was able to assure us that she can manage stairs safely, if she takes her time, and physically she is doing as well as can be expected. But there are things you need to be aware of. Her range of movement and co-ordination are still limited. She becomes exhausted easily and will need lengthy periods of rest, especially after her exercises and therapy. She will need a carefully monitored diet to make sure that she is getting all the nutrients that she needs as her own body recuperates and to ensure that the baby is supported as well as possible. She has a number of exercises that she will need to continue with on a daily basis from home, most of which she can do alone but some she may need help with."

"We can both do that," Kim said quickly.

"She has hospital-based therapy sessions three times a week," the doctor told them, "we will give you a schedule of those so that you are prepared. She'll also need to attend midwife appointments and various other appointments to assist in her recovery."

"Not a problem," said Kim.

The doctor nodded.

"Right," he said, "well, today is Thursday… if we agree Alex's discharge for Monday …"

"_Monday?"_ cried Alex, "I thought I was going home today!"

"You've _just_ been approved to leave – your friends are going to need a couple of days to make sure everything is ready for you," the doctor told her.

"He's right," said Kim, "we haven't got the sofabed yet." She coughed slightly, "need to get one… test it out..." she glanced at Robin which made Alex frown.

"Exactly what state is this alleged sofa bed going to be in by the time I get to it?" she demanded.

Kim bit her lip but knew Alex was a fine one to talk. She was fairly sure she and Gene had done a tour of most desks at Fenchurch East during Alex's heightened libido phase. In fact… oh _ew,_ was the 6620 desk one of their locations? Suddenly Kim felt an overwhelming need to wash her hands and disinfect her desk.

"Monday sounds fine," Robin nodded. Alex noticed he seemed a little quiet. She wondered if everything was OK – that didn't seek like Robin.

The doctor walked towards the door.

"Monday afternoon, when you've both finished work, you can come and collect Alex and make sure you ask us any additional questions you have."

Kim smiled a little smugly at the thought of never having to encounter that doctor again.

"Thank you very much," she said.

They all watched and waited for the doctor to leave before aiming a few two-fingered salutes in his direction. Alex's eyes were positively sparkling.

"I'm getting out," she beamed, "I'm getting out and then I'm going home."

"We'll do everything we can to help you, Ma'am," Kim said quietly.

Alex looked back at Robin. He didn't seem himself at all.

"Robin? Are you alright?"

Robin swallowed.

"Excuse me," he whispered, "need the toilet –"

He made a speedy exit leaving a worried Kim to try to explain to Alex,

"Uh… Robin seems to be having a few… issues, today." She bit her lip nervously, "a bug or something. He'll be fine, I'm sure." She hesitated then looked at Alex awkwardly. While Robin was visiting the bathroom she decided to take the opportunity to broach a difficult subject. "Ma'am? Can I ask you something?"

"You _can_ call me Alex, you know," Alex smiled tiredly.

Kim gave an embarrassed smile.

"Old habits are hard to break," she said.

Alex nodded.

"What did you want to ask?"

Kim took a deep breath. She looked at her awkwardly.

"What does _six-six-two-oh_ mean?"

All at once Alex's expression dropped a mile and her heart gave a jolt. The look in her eyes was almost indescribable. Kim knew that she'd struck something even beyond what she had imagined. She bit her lip. "Sorry… shouldn't I have mentioned it…?" she found herself gabbling as Alex seemed unable to reply, "It… it was on a desk… I remember seeing it, on Susannah's desk and I never knew what it meant…" she took a deep breath, "and I'd never have bothered asking, except…" she looked down at her hands folded in her lap anxiously. "I… I got a promotion today…. I'm a detective inspector now, can you imagine that?" she swallowed and her tongue ran around her lips nervously, "b-but the thing is, they gave me this desk, you see… and there it was, right on the top… and it's been painted over, but…"

Alex was shaking. She could hardly speak.

"What are you trying to say?" she whispered.

"I'm saying…" Kim realised that she didn't know exactly _what_ she was saying. Words didn't seem to do the issue justice so she reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper which she slowly unfolded and handed to Alex.

With a trembling hand Alex took it from her and stared at it; the rubbing she'd taken earlier that day. There it was, right before her – 6-6-20. More than that, it was the very one that had appeared on the desk so long ago, she'd recognise it anywhere. She looked at Kim, her eyes wide.

"Where did you get this?" she whispered.

"I told you, Ma'am, it's on my desk," Kim whispered, "I took a rubbing of it because I couldn't see it properly and I recognised it straight away. It was on Susannah's desk."

"_My_ desk," whispered Alex.

"What?"

Alex swallowed,

"it was _my_ desk," she whispered, "when I first joined Fenchurch East I was Gene's DI. I had that desk… one day, the numbers appeared, and…"

Kim looked at her anxiously.

"What do they mean?" she whispered.

Alex looked down. Kim needed to know – and so did Robin – but this wasn't the time nor the place.

"When I'm out of here," she whispered, "I'll tell you. I'll tell you both everything that you don't know yet. About Gene. About home. About what it means. I… I can't do it right now. Can't tell you here. And I need time." She looked down and drew in a deep breath, "I haven't thought about that number for many years."

Kim felt frustrated, she wanted to know what the number was but she didn't want to pressure Alex. She understood what it was like when you needed time to work out how to express something.

"OK," she whispered, "thank you." she hesitated, then took the paper from Alex. "But can I ask you one thing?"

Alex looked at her.

"What?" Kim felt herself shaking.

"What does it mean," she began, "that the desk is now mine?"

Alex closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Kim," she whispered, "I don't think I can answer that."

Kim nodded slowly.

"I didn't think you could," she whispered honestly. The implications were starting to weigh heavily on her mind. But this wasn't the time to think about it. For now she had to focus on the good news of the day – her promotion, Alex being allowed home so soon – those were what mattered righ there and then.

6620 could wait for another day.


	21. Chapter 10, 1996: Family Snaps

**Chapter 10: 1996**

Simon's plan of drinking and singing the night away didn't exactly take his mind off of things the way he hoped it would. The drinking would have been all very well if a beer pump hadn't exploded and coated him with foamy liquid ten minutes after he arrived night, sending him home in a damp and cold strop. He found that Gene was already asleep, the one remaining slice of pizza and empty bottle of scotch explaining the situation a little more clearly.

But Gene had gone long before Simon woke up the following morning. After passing out from too much pizza and an abundance of scotch the night before he'd woken up earlier than usual and decided to invest in a Latte Land breakfast before work. By the time Simon awoke, still smelling slightly of beer from the pump explosion, he was alone in the flat. He was fairly relieved of that. It wasn't that Gene had outstayed his welcome but with everything that Simon had on his mind he really wished he could spend more time alone to work out what the strange files were really all about. He didn't want to go up to Gene one day and shout _"You arrested my mother!"_ but he didn't know what else to do instead.

After drinking some strong coffee and skipping breakfast he set off for work, hoping that the day would be fairly quiet/. His head wasn't in a good place to deal with anything too complicated. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone. He didn't really want to be sociable. He just wanted to wallow in his own pity that day. Well, Gene had done that for months in a row – surely it was Simon's turn.

As soon as he arrived at his office door he knew that his quiet day had gone straight out of the window. The envelope on his desk was never going to contain anything good. He felt his blood boiling, stormed into the room and snatched it from the desk. His eyes flashed with fury. Who the hell was doing this? Without even stopping to open it or question its contents he marched angrily down to security and demanded,

"_Someone's been sneaking around and leaving things in my office – how the hell are they getting past you?"_

It took the security officers several minutes to calm him down and assure him that no one had come in who wasn't supposed to be and that they would be extra-vigilant, and soon Simon began to feel quite stupid. He knew he'd been lashing out at the wrong people but the sight of another envelope appearing had made his blood boil.

He found his legs taking him back to his office, his head in a spin. He realised that the envelope still sat in his hand, unopened. Whatever it held inside was never going to be pleasant, he knew that much, but it was time to stop putting it off. Slowly he opened the package and slipped from inside a number of photographs. Mug shots. Right on the top was his mother.

"What the fuck – _bastards!"_ he threw the pictures to the desk and paced up and down, thrusting his fingers through his hair, grasping chunks of it as though to try to ground himself. His anger was rising. What was the point of this? Why would anyone go to these lengths? He shook his head furiously as he marched up and down, trying to cool his temper.

Finally he came to a half and stood beside the desk again. He picked up the photos and slipped them back in the envelope, opened the drawer of his desk, dropped them inside and slammed it. He even locked it – he rarely did so, but he didn't want those pictures lurking where anyone could find them. He felt himself shaking. He couldn't find a way to cool his anger.

Eventually his legs made the decision and started to pace, he wasn't even sure where he was going but he marched right out of his office and down the corridor. He found himself heading downstairs and finally left the building. He just couldn't be there any longer. He needed air. Or caffeine. Preferably both.

~xXx~

Eddie wasn't all that surprised to find the man in the long coat and the specs lurking around as he made his way to work. He bristled at the sight and started shaking his head before he even came close.

"That was the last favour I'm doing for you," he snapped crossly.

The man was unfazed.

"Got a little bonus for you," he smiled holding a small envelope in his direction hat Eddie correctly assumed contained money. Whatever was in it, it would do nothing to assuage his guilt. He knocked he envelope out of his hand and shook his head.

"I'm not interested," he spat, "you know what I want and it's what you promised me. A way home."

"All in good time."

"I don't _have_ time!" cried Eddie.

Keats snickered as he glanced at his watch.

"No," he said, "you haven't. Still, never mind."

"I want to be out of his nightmare by Christmas," Eddie hissed.

"You never get anywhere in life by leaving a job half done."

"One package!" cried Eddie, "that's what you said. Then one package turned into two. If this case is so bloody important then go and put the packages on his desk yourself."

"Edward, I told you before…"

"Rival station, can't tell colleagues, blah blah, I get it," Eddie hissed, "Well that's it, it's over."

Keats opened his mouth to deliver another promise, or a threat, accompanied by a charming smile but footsteps were heading thunderously in their direction and they turned to see Simon flying down the street towards them.

"_You leave him the fuck alone!"_

Eddie had never heard Simon so angry.

"It's a public path, I can talk to who I want," Keats raised an eyebrow but the smug smile soon left his face as Simon's fist made hard contact with it. He hadn't been expecting such a violent reaction from him, not in the slightest, and had been in no position to protect himself or lessen the blow. He stumbled backwards, clinging to his jaw as Simon turned to Eddie and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"What are you talking to that grotbag for?" he demanded.

Eddie looked shaken.

"S-sir?"

"That's Jim Keats, for god's sake, you only talk to him if you want to spend eternity with your pants on fire!"

Eddie stumbled back out of Simon's slightly manic grasp and struggled to explain himself.

"He… he just asked –"

"That's the first clue," Simon hissed, "he asks you to do something, you _know_ you're getting into something you need to avoid."

He glanced at Keats who had a small trail of blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

"Thanks for that, Simon," he spat, "it had been at least five months since anyone tried to break my jaw. I was starting to think no one cared."

"Piss off, Keats," Simon couldn't even be bothered with him. He turned back to Eddie and looked at him seriously. "I'll give you one piece of advice: if you see him, run."

Eddie stared at Simon. That's what his instincts had told him, but he'd ignored them for a good reason.

"The first time someone actually admits you're a long way from home, you don't run," he said bitterly, "you stand where you are and listen when they say they can help you get back."

"He can't help you get anywhere!" cried Simon, "he's a waffling windbag who had a grand selection of promises and none come to fruition. Today he'll offer you a ticket home, tomorrow it'll be _come and work for me_. Then it'll be promotion… maybe a department of your own… then lord high chief executioner or something. Whatever he offers you, believe me, you don't want it. It's not worth it."

"I just want to get out this bloody place!" cried Eddie.

"Well he's not going to get you home!"

"So you admit this isn't home?"

Simon froze. He panted a little as his anger began to cool and he realised the slip he'd made. Biting his lip, he looked at Eddie cautiously.

"Whatever he promises…"

"That's not answering my question."

Simon stared on. He knew he'd opened his big mouth too wide and let a hint of truth escape but it was too late to reel it in now. Besides, he was more concerned with Keats and whatever he'd been saying to Eddie.

"He told you to put those envelopes on my desk, didn't he?" he saw Eddie look down. "They're from him, aren't they?"

"He said it was a case –"

"Oh yeah," Simon laughed bitterly, "a case alright. A case referring to the arrest of –" he paused, "of a relative of mine. To wind me up. Turn the knife. Because that's the kind of bastard he is.

"He said –"

"_He_ said? _He_ said? What have I been telling you about the crap that comes out when he flaps his lips?"

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew everything Simon was saying was true. He'd already thought it all himself. There was no excuse for what he'd done, except that he was a desperate man at the end of his tether.

"I'm lost, Sir," he said quietly, "and I need to find my way back before Christmas. If you know… if you know _anything_ about me… that I don't belong here… how I can get back… please tell me."

Simon felt a terrible pang of guilt and sadness as he looked at Eddie. He couldn't do that. He looked down and took a step backwards.

"Eddie," he said quietly, "just… just trust your instincts about strange men in long coats. Avoid them at all costs."

He turned and began to walk away but Eddie broke into a trot and caught up with him quickly.

"_Sir,"_ he said insistently. Simon glanced at him. "Please? Can… can we talk?"

Simon knew it was a bad idea. He knew it went against the law of the land, but the look of desperation on Eddie's face made him relent. If he didn't the man might just go and give Keats a second chance. Finally Simon nodded.

"We'll get a coffee," he said quietly.

As they walked to Latte Land Simon already started to dread the conversation. He didn't know what the hell to say to Eddie. There was very little that he could say. This world was a hard place to live in - and even harder when other came to question it. He hoped his flapping lips wouldn't let him down this time.


	22. Chapter 11, 2011: Tiny Feet

**Chapter 11: 2011**

"Oh yeah, _just leave it in the hall, we'll take it from there_…" Kim mocked a little breathlessly as they attempted to shift the _goddamn sofa bed_ into the mostly unused study.

"I made a slight miscalculation." Robin grunted, leaning back against it and trying to walk backwards to get the thing moving.

"What kind of miscalculation?"

"I miscalculated the fact that anything might go right for us," he mumbled as the sofa bed started to shift, _"Oh!_ Hang on, that's got it – keep pushing…"

"_Keep_ pushing?" Kim bit her lip nervously, realising that she should have been helping. Still, never too late to start. They pushed and shoved the large monster of an item into the room and managed to push it into place with a joint sigh and flopped side by side into the soft material.

"Oh, this is nice actually," Robin commented.

"Should we try turning it into a bed?" asked Kim.

"Are you sure the thing won't eat us?" Robin asked. He mentally played through his head images of people getting eaten by hungry sofabeds. He wasn't sure whether this had ever actually happened or whether it was a part of his overactive imagination but he didn't want to be the next victim.

"Well we'll have to do it sooner or later," Kim pointed out.

Together they just about figured out how to change the sofa part into the bed and soon it was all stretched out in all its adjustable glory. They lay back against it, taking a well-earned rest.

"Forget Alex,_ I'm_ having this," Kim commented as she wriggled into the soft fabric. Robin stretched out his legs.

"Thank god that's over with," he sighed. He glanced down at his feet and wiggled them slightly. "Do my ankles look swollen to you?"

"Probably from all the pushing and shoving," Kim said tiredly, "have a rest." She rolled over slightly until her head was resting against her shoulder. "Rob?"

"Hmm?"

Kim sighed.

"I'm really glad Alex is coming out of hospital and even more so that they're letting her stay with us instead of strangers, but…" she closed her eyes. "I'm going to miss it just being you and me."

Robin nodded slowly. He felt just the same. He didn't want to sound negative in any way but it was going to take some adjustment, having a houseguest.

"What's the etiquette on…" he coughed slightly, "_you know_…. When you've got a houseguest?"

Kim hesitated

"Doing it as quietly as possible," she said, pretending not to blush.

They fell silent as they stared at the ceiling and thought about what Alex's discharge from hospital meant for them all. One phase of her journey was over but the next one was only just about to begin and neither of them knew how long it was going to take or what they would need to do to help her home. But Alex belonged with Gene. They both knew it. Whatever her reason for being in 2011, they'd help her find out and she would be back on her way.

"One more thing," Robin sat up suddenly.

Kim looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"This room needs one more thing," he said as he got to his feet. He waited for her to follow him. "Come on."

X

As the cupboard door slowly opened, Kim peered inside.

"You're joking," she said.

"Nope."

"What would Alex want with _that?"_

"I think you'll find she'll make good use of this," Robin smiled, "come on, take the other side."

Between them they hauled a rather large and somewhat unsteady flip chart and stand out of the cupboard and down to Alex's makeshift room where they stood it against the wall. The sheet on the front still bore two lists, _1995_ and _2011_ from her last visit to 2011. On both sides of the board Kim saw her own name and realised that if it wasn't for Alex needing her help she and Robin may never have met again after she'd delivered Simon's letter. She looked at him with a distant smile on her face.

"I think I get it now," she said.

~xXx~

"The next time I see you, you'll be out of here!"

Alex wished that she could share Molly's enthusiasm for their next meeting. She really did.

It was Sunday afternoon and Alex's discharge from hospital was on the horizon. Just 24 hours to go. Mostly she couldn't wait to get back out there and start working out how to find her way home to Gene – as well as taste real food instead of the cardboard muck hey served her up here times a day. But there was one issue that was burning her with guilt.

She knew that, once out of the hospital, Molly would be visiting far more often. It would be so much easier for her to drop round to Robin's and see her after school, but Alex sill struggled terribly to relate to Molly. She struggled for conversation and felt at times that her daughter did too. That wasn't right, was it? Her own flesh and blood and she barely had a word to say to her.

More than that, it was going to become impossible to hide the pregnancy from Molly any longer. While she was in bed with loose covers and nightclothes around her it was far simpler to cover up, but in her normal clothes it was blindingly obvious. With the doctors putting her around seventeen to eighteen weeks by now the small but definite bump was too obviously a baby to be passed off as anything else. The rest of her was still on the skinny side and her rounded belly stuck out like a sore thumb.

That wasn't a conversation she was looking forward to.

"I've got to go and finish my homework," Molly pulled a face, "we've got mocks coming up next week. But I'm going to visit on Tuesday, is that OK?"

Alex smiled a little weakly.

"That would be lovely, Mols," she said.

She hugged her daughter and said her goodbyes, letting her smile fade the moment Molly was out of sight. Her hand rose to her stomach and moved slowly across it, the movements becoming stronger with every passing day. There were times when it still seemed impossible and unbelievable and then other times when it just made so much sense to her that the baby had travelled over with her. It was so much a part of her that when she faded from 1996 the baby simply went too.

"I promise you, things are going to get better from here," she whispered quietly as she felt the kick against her hand, "this is the first step. Robin and Kim will help us find our way home." She paused and gave a distant smile. "And I promise you we'll be getting more than cardboard for lunch every day."

She could have been mistaken but she was fairly sure the baby gave an extra strong kick of approval.

~xXx~

The weekend passed in a flurry of activity; for Alex it was all about hospital schedules, diet sheets, exercise regimes and last minute checks while for Kim and Robin it was putting the finishing touches to the room for their prospective guest and making the most of their last weekend of privacy. When Monday dawned it would be the start of a whole new chapter, one which would lead Alex home to the life, man and work she loved.

~xXx~

The sound of frustrated mumbling woke Kim half an hour before the alarm clock was due to awaken her. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, trying to focus in the dim light as Robin marched around the bedroom, half dressed, hurling insults at his uniform.

"What's going on?" she mumbled as she tried to make sense of things. Robin didn't reply so she tried to pull herself upright and work out for herself what was happening.

"Rob? What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Robin sighed miserably.

"Yes there is," Kim hauled her legs out of bed and stomped tiredly towards him, "come on, you've woken me up now. What's your uniform done to upset you?"

"What?"

"You've been mumbling at it for the last five minutes so it must have done something." She paused as Robin looked down. "What is it? Not quite whiter than white? Missing a button? Committed a hate crime? Shot JFK?"

"Don't Kim, I'm not in the mood," mumbled Robin.

Kim frowned. Robin's behaviour had been growing increasingly erratic over the last few days.

"Tell me what's wrong or I'll pierce your arse," she threatened.

Robin sighed and looked away, shaking his head.

"My trousers are too tight and I'm getting fat," he mumbled, his face growing red with embarrassment.

"What?"

"I must have put on weight, I can't get the button done up," Robin said quietly, pulling his shirt away from the top of his unfastened trousers and staring downward. Kim glanced at his waistline. It looked a little swollen. With a sigh she prodded him in the middle.

"Rob, that's wind," she said.

"Bloody isn't," Robin frowned.

"It is," Kim insisted, "you don't put on weight overnight. That's not fat, that's gas."

Robin turned a very bright shade of red.

"Thanks for your kind support," he muttered.

"If you keep eating baked beans then what do you expect?" Kim accused, "you've had them every day for a week!"

"I have not," Robin said indignantly, battling again with his button.

"Every night, Rob," Kim shook her head, "like you've got bloody cravings. When was the last time you cooked something that didn't come out of a can, covered in tomato sauce?" He stayed silent as he finally got the button fastened with some stress and Kim sighed and shook her head. "You're just bloated, Rob. Don't worry about it. I'm going back to bed."

She crawled back under the covers and pulled them around her head, trying to ignore Robin's continued protests and managed to snatch another few minutes of sleep before the alarm clock sounded and she had no option but to get up and dressed. She washed quickly and busied herself getting ready for work, then made her way to the kitchen to find Robin shedding his shirt.

"Oh what _now?"_ she cried, "your poor uniform!"

"There's something wrong with this shirt," Robin said quickly.

"Why?"

"It's making my nipples sore."

"_What?"_ Kim's face scrunched up in confusion. She sank into a chair and shook her head slowly. "What exactly do you mean it's…" she closed her eyes, "second thoughts, I don't want to know."

She began to feel anxious as she watched him walking around, trying to find a softer shirt. This wasn't like Robin. He seemed to have changed so quickly, becoming moody, irritable and touchy most of the time. But it was more than that – she started to worry there was something physically wrong. He seemed to be on and off of foods, rarely managing a full meal unless it was beans on toast – there was no way he'd be putting on weight when she couldn't seem to tempt him to eat properly any more. He spent half the night in the bathroom, refusing to admit anything was wrong even when he took trip after trip to the toilet. She was pretty sure she'd heard him retching in the bathroom the morning before but he'd seemed OK the rest of the day so she hadn't pressed him about it.

She watched him rubbing on his swollen stomach. He reminded her of a pregnant woman.

Something strange was going on with Robin and since, as far as she knew, he wasn't a miracle of modern medicine and couldn't have conceived a baby she had to find out what else could be. There was a cold sense of dread in her bones. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

~xXx~

"Big day today, Alex!"

Alex glared at her doctor as he came breezing through the door. _Yes,_ she thought to herself, _today marks the start of never having to see you again._

"Yes, it is," she said simply with an innocent smile.

"Now, here is your appointment schedule," he told her, handing her a sheet of paper.

"You're too kind," Alex couldn't resist some well-deserved sarcasm as she took the sheet of paper and folded it up. She had no more intention of attending the appointments then she did of paying the blindest bit of notice to the diet sheet, using the walking frame or following any of the other pieces of useless advice she was going to be given during that day.

"What time are your friends arriving?" he asked her.

Alex glanced at the clock.

"They're leaving work early and should be here by four," she said.

"Excellent," said the doctor, "I'll make sure I'm on hand to answer any questions they may have."

"Like _how did you ever get to be a doctor_?" Alex mumbled.

"Pardon, Alex?"

Another innocent smile headed his way.

"Nothing," she said.

"How are you feeling about going home?" the doctor asked, "any nerves? Any last minute questions? Any second thoughts about leaving so soon?"

Alex could honestly say none of the above had passed through her mind.

"I feel absolutely bloody fantastic," she beamed.

She could almost taste the nineties in the air.

~xXx~

Kim glanced around to make sure her colleagues were not staring over her shoulder as she opened Google and began to search for Robin's symptoms. There were some troubling possible physiological causes for what he was going through but it was the psychological ones that worried her most. Biting her lip, she printed off a page and deleted her browsing history. This wasn't something she wanted anyone to find.

She retrieved the page from the printer and stared at it.

_Pseudocyesis,_ it said, _Hysterical Pregnancy in Humans._

~xXx~

Kim took a deep breath as she watched Robin eating a baked bean sandwich at his desk. She shook her head slowly and walked into the room.

"Rob?"

Robin glanced up, surprised but delighted to see her.

"Kim," he smiled, wiping the bean juice from his lip, "hey, nice surprise… what are you doing here?" he cleaned some papers off the chair beside him for her to sit down. He wasn't sure she'd ever been to see him at work. They usually ran into each other in the car park or a corridor but this was a highly unusual occurrence.

Kim gave him a nervous smile as she sat down. She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket and cleared her throat.

"Robin," she began, "I'm a bit…. A little bit worried about you."

Robin frowned.

"What? Why?"

Kim bit her lip.

"This morning…" she began awkwardly.

Robin looked down, his cheeks turning pink.

"No, you were right, that _was _wind," he said uncomfortably, "sorry. I overreacted." He bit his lip. "Would hate to be the next person who followed me into the toilets though."

Kim cringed. Usually she was the one who'd make a comment – or a smell – like that. She tried to put it out her mind

"No, that's not it," she said, "I mean, everything… you've not been quite yourself lately, Robin." She hesitated "Have you heard of Pseudocyesis?"

Robin thought for a moment,

"Is that like telekinesis?" he asked

Kim rolled her eyes.

"Not really, no."

"Because I know that's moving things with your mind…" Robin shook his head slowly, "Simon would know if he was here…"

"No, it's nothing like that," said Kim. She paused. "Have you heard of hysterical pregnancy?"

Robin almost asked if that was what happened when a character on a sitcom got knocked up but thought better of it.

"Not really," he said.

"It's when someone exhibits the signs of a pregnancy but they're not actually pregnant," Kim explained, "they can get all the regular symptoms… morning sickness, needing to go for a piss all the time," her eyes dropped to his sandwich, _"…cravings_…" she looked back up at him, "even weight gain. But they're not actually pregnant. Sometimes it can be something physically wrong… but often, it's because of a deep, psychological desire to be pregnant."

Robin frowned and scratched his head.

"I don't think I know what case you're talking about," he said.

"I don't mean a case," said Kim, "I mean…" she swallowed and nodded at him but he still didn't seem to get it. "You've been under a lot of stress lately, Rob," she continued, "trying to get used to our relationship, Alex going through surgery and waking up," she paused, "the miscarriages..."

Robin's brain was whirring away. Kim's little speech was confusing the hell out of him. The only thing he could possibly assume she meant was far too ridiculous to contemplate

"What are you…" he began as Kim moved forwards and took his hands.

"I know they've been hard on you too," she said softly, "and I never really let you talk about them… not properly…" She looked him right on the eye. "I think maybe you should see someone. A counsellor."

"What? _Why?"_ Robin's mouth was hanging open by now as Kim looked at him intently.

"It's not normal Robin," she said quietly, "the mood swings and the all-night pissathons and the non-stop baked beans. Not to mention the," she coughed slightly, _"sore nipples."_

"Kim," Robin's voice grew strained and dismayed.

"It's alright," she urged him, "I'm here for you."

"What _exactly_ are you trying to say to me?"

Kim looked him in the eye.

"You need to get over this hysterical pregnancy, Robin," she said quietly.

Robin drew back, shock radiating from every pore.

"You think," he began, "that _I_ think… I'm _pregnant?"_ he shook his head as his mouth fell open, "and you think _I _need to see a counsellor?"

"It accounts for all your symptoms," Kim told him.

"I haven't _got_ symptoms!" cried Robin, "I just had too much coffee before bed, wore a shirt that was too rough and had a bit of trapped wind! Is that a crime?"

"You've been behaving strangely for almost a week now, Rob."

Robin felt himself becoming teary.

"Why are you being so _horrible_ to me?" he cried.

"_See?_ You _see,_ now you're having mood swings too!"

"I am not!" Robin cried.

"You _are_! You're having mood swings and you're getting over-emotional!"

Robin wiped his eye and turned away from her.

"You come in here with your fancy medical print-outs and accuse me of thinking I'm _with child_ and interrupt my baked bean sandwich…" he shook his head. "This is stupid, Kim. Really stupid."

"But the print out says…"

"I don't _care_ what the print out says!" cried Robin, "I'm a _man!_ OK, so you open all the jars and hang all the curtains while I do all the cooking, but I'm still a bloody man! I don't _think_ I'm pregnant and I certainly don't have a…" he tried to remember the term she used, "_a deep rooted desire to be pregnant!"_ He looked back at Kim. Her head was hanging slightly and he felt bad for yelling. He sighed and reached for her hand. "Kim… the miscarriages… the babies…. I never stop thinking about them and I'll never forget. And, yes, it's left a very deep wound in my heart, I can't do anything about that. But we've been through this together, we'll keep going through it together and if I need to talk I'll talk to _you_, not to some counsellor or some medical website that tells you that I think I'm up the duff." He sighed and caught her eye. "No, I don't think I'm pregnant, nor do I _want_ to be pregnant. I'll cut back on the beans if it bothers you. But I am not having a hysterical pregnancy. OK?"

Kim looked at him a little awkwardly. He seemed very certain and fairly unhappy with her diagnosis. The nagging worries were stull eating away at her in the back of her mind but for the sake of peace she would tuck them out of the way for now. She gave a weak smile and laid down her printout.

"OK," she said quietly.

Robin looked her in the eye.

"So we're OK? And everything… is OK?"

Kim gave a weak smile.

"Yes, Rob," she said, "we're fine."

"Good," he said quietly.

He reached out to hug her, one gesture making amends for any cross words they'd exchanged. But as she wrapped her arms around him and held him tighter she felt him flinch.

"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"My nip-" Robin began, then he hesitated, "nothing."

Kim felt her anxiety return. No matter what Robin said, something definitely wasn't right. She wasn't going to rest until she found out what was behind his issues. That, or when a baby popped out at least.


	23. Chapter 11, 1996: Muppets Wanted

**Chapter 11: 1996**

Eddie sat with his head in his hands, staring with close proximity at the table. His transformation from chirpy hopeful dreamer to depressed realist had taken its time. He'd been in Gene's world for over eight months now and what had started as a 'lucid dream' and an experience to enjoy had turned slowly into a perpetual nightmare for him.

"Here," Simon placed a large mug in front of him. Eddie looked up and tried to smooth out his hair a little.

"Thanks," he said. He stared at the coffee before him. "I'm used to drinking from the cardboard cups. Never usually stick around and have one in here."

"You're usually on the latte run, that's why," Simon commented.

"Unless someone else has done something to piss the guv off," said Eddie. He glanced at Simon. "Usually you."

Simon fiddled with his hair awkwardly.

"Yeah, OK. Don't rub it in," he mumbled. It was true. He was usually the first one in the firing line any time something went wrong and therefore usually the one taking over the late run. He picked up his own mug and stared at the trail of steam rising from it, cleared his throat awkwardly and began, "Look, sorry… about outside. Keats is a class-one bastard and he's got his claws into too many good people in the past. Didn't want him getting another one"

"I was through with him anyway," Eddie said a little guiltily, regretting ever getting involved in the first place.

Simon took a sip of his coffee and swore as he burnt his tongue. When he'd panted and fanned it for a few moments he calmed down enough to ask,

"So where did he catch you? In the car park? On the way to the pub?"

"Down my road," Eddie said quietly, "like he knew I was going to be there."

Simon bowed his head as he recalled that Eddie had been 'given' the small house that had previously belonged to Kim.

"Yeah, I think he knows that road well," Simon said angrily.

"All started so simply," Eddie shook his head, "he asked me the time but my watch had been fucked up all week so I couldn't give it to him, then when I started walking away he called after me and asked when I was planning to go home. His words… well, they sounded a bit weird. I asked him what he meant and he said he knew I wasn't from around here."

Simon sighed heavily. This was a familiar tale.

"Let me guess," he sighed, "He told you Gene was rotten and he needed your help to cut out the deadwood?"

Eddie shook his head.

"No," he said, "he told me when you're far from home there's always a reason and I had a job to do. He told me if I helped him bring an old secret into the light then my job would be over and I'd get to leave."

"What makes you think you're not home?" Simon chanced the line but knew he didn't have the conviction behind it to do a lot of good.

"Don't bullshit me," Eddie shook his head, "I don't know what you know, but I know that it's enough to realise I'm well out of place here." He drank from his mug and wiped his foamy lip with the back of his hand. "But that man out there was the first one who gave me any hope since I got here. He's the first person who knew I was from –" he hesitated. What was he supposed to say? '_The future'?_ He didn't want to sound like a space cadet. "From another place. I felt so trapped and frustrated. I was stupid to trust him but when someone gives you hope after all that time what else can you do?"

Simon hung his head as he remembered his first trip to Gene's world, back in 1985. He recalled Keats and a video tape that was supposed to show Simon the real Gene Hunt. Keats had dragged him down too, just as he had Alex and Kim. He still couldn't understand how Robin was the only one who had resisted the promises and the temptation.

"He promises things that he will never, ever give you," Simon told him, "and in exchange he asks you to damage good people who are trying to take care of you."

"All he wanted was for me to leave you an envelope," Eddie protested. He paused, _"Two_ envelopes."

"But in those envelopes were things aimed at me… aimed at pissing me off… aimed at trying to destroy my working relationships… my family memories… even my friendship with DCI Hunt. I don't know where he's been digging this crap up from or why but he decided to do something to piss me off but he roped you in as an accomplice because he knows he'll never get through the doors after last time".

"What do you mean_, last time?"_

"He got Lindsay killed!" cried Simon.

The look of abject horror and utter sadness on Eddie's face was almost heart-breaking.

"What?" he barely managed to hiss.

"He was the one who yelled and made the idiot with the gun start firing. He pushed Lindsay into his line of fire. He was pissed off because she'd rejected his advances."

Eddie wallowed as his words started to sink in. He and Lindsay had hit it off right away. They'd shared many boozy nights in Bask and had been good friends. Every now and then Eddie thought they might be teetering on the verge of something more but it never quite happened. He found his hands rising to his forehead as all the breath left his body in a shuddering sigh.

"Shit," he breathed, shaking his head. He swallowed and tried not to show how badly that stung him inside. "Lindsay… we…." He closed his eyes, "I kind of thought one day we might have had something going on."

"Yeah," Simon sighed sadly. He'd seen the spark there, but knew exactly why nothing had happened. "You were too busy trying to imagine away her clothes though."

Eddie stared at his hands. Those days of believing it was all a dream seemed so far away now.

"What else would I have done?" he shook his head, "I didn't think this was real. I thought it was all in my head, so…" he found his eye line rising and he finally looked Simon in the eye. "I was trying to catch this guy."

Simon froze, unsure what he meant.

"What guy?"

"He was a local conman. Ripping off old ladies. Getting them to hand over their life savings for phoney plumbing work they didn't need. He'd been going door to door, taking 'deposits'. Someone recognised him from the awareness campaign. Went storming round to catch him in the act, crafty sod was already moving on. I never saw his car until it was right there, in front of my face. I can still see his smug bastard grin as he drove right at me." He stiffed his coffee for something to do. He needed a distraction. "And then I was somewhere else. Bloody car park, wasn't it? I freaked out. Tried to find CID, but everything was different. I tried to find my phone but that had gone." Simon gave a laugh that he managed to turn into a snort. He glanced at Eddie who was looking slightly pissed off. "My life funny is it?"

"No, it's, the phone thing," Simon shook his head, laughing again. He knew this was more than he was supposed to say but he didn't want Eddie to feel too bad. "It's a common theme," he said, "I was known as _The iPhone Guy_ for a long time."

"Better than being known as _The Stapler Guy,"_ Eddie mumbled.

Simon leaned back a little.

"What was with the whole… stapler thing?" he asked.

Eddie shook his head and shrugged.

"When I couldn't find my phone I went a bit mad. Picked up a stapler. Thought I could recharge that instead." He rubbed his ear. "I still have the scars from where the staples went in…"

Simon flinched.

"Yeah, they're not the best thing for making calls on." He said.

"When I realised what had happened I just thought I was dreaming," Eddie continued, "I knew I'd been knocked unconscious. I could hear voices… people in hospital talking to me, so I knew things were going on out there. It was just like the time I fell asleep watching The Big Breakfast and had a lengthy dream about living with Zig and Zag."

Simon shuddered. Those puppets were still a bit of a sore point with him.

"Eddie," he took a deep breath, trying to work out what he could or couldn't say, "you're not dreaming. So you need to find a way to live your life."

"This isn't my life," said Eddie, "I need to get home." He saw Simon look down and shake his head slowly. "OK, so Keats isn't the way to get there but I can't stay here. I need to get back by Christmas. I am not going to spend it stuck in this shitty world. In this shitty year of all years. Not again."

"What's the big deal about Christmas?" Simon asked quietly. When Eddie looked down he knew he'd hit a nerve.

"It's the old movie stereotype, isn't it?" he said, "the Christmas tragedy, the death that stays with you forever."

Simon swallowed. He'd never seen Eddie look so downcast.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, deciding to add, "the first time?"

Eddie glanced at him. He was grateful that Simon had shown even a hint of acknowledging the situation.

"I lost my best friend," he said coldly, as though trying to disconnect himself from the words, "Christmas eve, nineteen ninety six. We'd been down the pub, a bunch of us. First Christmas legally drinking. I didn't think he was going to drive. Thought he'd take a cab home. I walked back, I left early, had to see my girlfriend to give her her present. I heard the crash streets away." He hung his head. "There was another friend of ours in the car. He said he'd tried to talk him out of driving but he claimed he'd only had a couple and was fine. "

Simon chewed on his lip as he watched Eddie hang his head.

"Listen," he said quietly, "I'm… I'm _so_ sorry. I'm really sorry about your loss. And I know it's hard when you're stuck somewhere you don't want to be, especially at this time of year." He paused and took a deep breath. "But sometimes you need to make the best of where you are and who you're with at any given time." He paused. "Stop treating this place like something swirling around in the vapours of your head and start trying to make friends instead. There are people here who would love to see the real Eddie. The Eddie who's not trying to imagine off their clothes or recharge a stapler." He saw the tiniest flicker of a smile from Eddie.

"Thanks, Sir," Eddie said very quietly.

As Simon lifted his coffee again he wasn't sure how much he'd helped or how Eddie would cope from there on in but he felt, perhaps for the first time, as though he'd started to find his feet. The job they did at Fenchurch East was exceptionally hard and trying to find the right way to deal with wanderers like Eddie was a nightmare I itself but just maybe he was starting to find the right balance. He hoped so. It had been a long time coming.

~xXx~

Keats shook his head as he looked at his bruised reflection in the mirror in the gents' of Fenchurch West.

"You try to fill in a man's family history and this is how he repays you," he muttered, turning on the cold tap until it ran to an icy temperature. He dipped a handful of paper towels into the sink and wrung them out before he pressed them gently to his jaw. He stared at himself again. His plan hadn't been going all that well.

Two envelopes he'd managed to get to Simon, thanks to Eddie. Two envelopes that had started to build up the picture and yet Simon was still clueless, focusing on the wrong thing entirely. It was enough to make Keats want to smash another mirror with his forehead.

"How thick _are_ you, Simon?" he mumbled, "how stupid do you have to be? You can't see what's right in front of your smug bloody face."

It was time to step things up a gear. There were plenty more hints that Keats could send his way. Next time he would just have to pick something a little less obscure. A great big flashing fucking arrow of a hint.

And he'd need to find himself a new Eddie, too.

"No problem at all," he sighed, "Muppets are ten a penny in that station."

He dipped his paper towels in the cold water one last time, squeezed out the excess water and held them to his jaw again before he left the toilets. There was work to be done.


	24. Chapter 12, 2011: Flipping Out

_**A/N: Apologies, I had the hospital appointment from hell yesterday morning and spent the afternoon more or less passed out and unable to move, so editing on his chapter may be totally off, please excuse typos and mistakes, I'm still feeling about as strong as a bowl of Alex's cabbage soup :P**_

**Chapter 12: 2011**

Things were slightly stilted between Kim and Robin as they drove to the hospital to collect Alex. Robin was still feeling a little upset about Kim's accusations of hysterical pregnancy while Kim was still worried about Robin's symptoms. Despite his protests to the contrary she couldn't help thinking that the description of hysterical pregnancy suited him almost to a T. They were both doing their best not to mention it as they pulled into the hospital car park and made the journey to Alex's room for the final time.

Alex couldn't have looked any happier, they were both sure of that. She had been almost bouncing off the walls at the scent of freedom all day. Up and dressed, she was sitting in a chair instead of in bed, her bags packed beside her. It seemed strange to see her in actual clothes too.

"Hello," she tried not to smile _too_ broadly as they came towards her. She knew that she had more reason than most for feeling so desperate to get out of hospital but didn't want to antagonise the doctors _too_ much upon her discharge.

"How are you feeling?" Kim asked her, an excited smile on her face.

"Like it's Christmas already," Alex smiled.

Her doctor arrived to put a dampener on the mood. All three of them politely nodded and tried not to roll their eyes as many hand-outs were forced upon them. Robin and Kim received copies of the diet sheet, appointment schedule and other info that Alex had been given earlier and a set of instructions was given to them that they all knew would be ignored.

Finally the moment arrived; the discharge papers were signed and Alex found herself carefully climbing into the back of Robin's car. There was only one word on her mind; _Freedom._

But then that reminded her of _Wham_ so she went _with let's get the fuck out of this hospital car park _instead.

~xXx~

Alex was shocked to find herself at the building Robin had taken her to to keep her safe and hidden after she'd arrived on his doorstep back in February. Although she had finally been told some of the basics about Keats hijacking Layton's body and taking it for a joyride, neither Robin nor Kim felt able to go into a lot of detail, especially not in the hospital. The horrific incident still weighed heavily on both their minds Both were prone to an occasional nightmare that left them waking up in a panic, sweating and screaming. So Robin's reasons for choosing to move into Simon's old flat had remained unspoken.

"I'm sorry, Alex," he apologised as he helped her out of the car, "I know it sounds stupid but I've been here for almost eight months now and I suppose I was so used to it that I forgot to tell you I'd moved."

"No harm done," Alex smiled distantly, remembering those few days in Simon's old flat with a flip chart and an unfortunate junk food and alcohol binge.

Climbing the stairs to the flat was easier than climbing the ones in the hospital had been, with or without imaginary cakes at the top. With Robin and Kim's help she made it to the top fairly quickly and they let her inside. She looked around slowly, noting the changes that they'd made to the place. While the bulk of the décor was as she remembered there were a few extras; some pictures on the walls, a rug in the hall and a strange photograph of some kind of anti-beard award ceremony… she glossed over that one.

"I'll show you to your room," Kim told her, which sounded to Alex a little like turning up at some creepy old mansion and being kidnapped by a lonely old woman or a freaky evil scientist. "We hope you appreciate the effort that went into moving the sofa bed in here because it almost did us in."

"Maybe that's how I get back home," Alex considered as Kim turned on the light and the full glory of the sofa bed came into view, "squashed by a sofa bed."

"I _told_ you they were evil," Robin hissed to Kim, doing a vague impression of one eating a person.

"Was this your room?" Alex asked Kim, frowning slightly.

"No, this was the study," Kim told her, "but since neither of us did any studying…" she laughed slightly as Alex frowned, confused.

"Then where do you sleep?"

Kim felt herself turning red and took a step back.

"Uh," she began awkwardly, It felt a little like explaining to a parent that she and Robin actually shared a bed. Alex began to look slightly horrified at her own ignorance as she realised how stupid her question must have sounded.

"I'm sorry, I –" she shook her head, "I didn't mean to sound patronising, it's not like I didn't have a live show…" she noticed both Kim and Robin looking more uncomfortable by the moment, "I mean… I honestly didn't realise you two were…" she paused, "_that_ serious_. Living together_. When you said you were _staying_ with Robin…" she said to Kim before glancing at Robin.

Robin looked a little nervous.

"It's true, things… moved pretty fast," he said quietly, "I mean, me and Simon, we'd been together years before we started looking at living together. Things just…" he glanced at Kim, "fell into place for us." He saw her smile.

Alex felt somewhat silly for her assumption and decided to move on quickly. She looked around the rest of the room and her eyes fell upon the flip chart. Her expression seemed to float between sadness, nostalgia and even fondness.

"Oh my goodness," she took a slow step towards it, "I wasn't expecting to see that."

"We thought it might be of help to you," Robin said with a distant smile

Alex nodded as she felt unexpected tears pricking her eyes. All of a sudden the grim reality of the situation began to take hold. For the last month or so she had fought hard with the sole purpose of finding her way out of hospital. That was the first step towards getting home, of course. But now she was out it was time for the second step, a second step that she hadn't even managed to start thinking about yet. The reality began to sink in; that one month on she was still stuck in a life that she no longer felt a part of, away from Gene, and no closer to actually finding a way home. The though started to overwhelm her and she stumbled slightly.

"Ma'am, sit down," Kim said quickly, "come on –"

She stepped forward to stead her and moved her gently towards the sofa bed. Alex closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed as she started to take in quite how hard the task ahead was going to be.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be silly," Robin said quickly, "you've just come out of hospital, it's your right to be a bit wobbly."

Alex stared at the flip chart, familiar lists upon it. She recalled that February night, brainstorming with Robin, all that she could remember and all they could think of to help her get home.

"I think," she said quietly, "that a serious brainstorming session is in order."

"Later," Robin said quickly, "no brainstorming until after dinner." He stepped towards the door. Speaking of which, I'd better get started."

"Ohh, real food," Alex sighed happily at the thought. The food in the hospital had been even less palatable than her doctor's bedside manner. She tugged a little at her uncomfortable trousers and Kim looked at her worriedly.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" she asked.

Alex sighed, a little embarrassed.

"These bloody things," she muttered, "I've been in my bed clothes for a month, I finally get some of my clothes and of course they don't fit." She shook her head slowly. "All my things are in storage. Molly was able to bring me a few clothes but she doesn't know about the baby." She looked awkwardly at Kim. "None of this is maternity wear."

"Shit, didn't even think about that," Kim sighed. She hesitated, "wait there."

Alex looked after her a little confused as she disappeared.

"Well where am I going to go? The moon?"

~xXx~

Kim had never been a great one for unpacking. Even now, a good few months or so since she'd moved in with Robin she had bags and boxes that were so far untouched. She opened the wardrobe door and sank to her knees, pulling a black bin liner full of clothes out of the bottom. She rummaged through quickly and there they were, at the bottom of the bag; the clothes that she'd kept for several years and wasn't sure she'd ever have the opportunity to wear again. She pulled them out of the bag, pushed the rest back into the wardrobe and shut the door.

Alex hadn't been sure what to expect when Kim came back in the room but she really wasn't expecting her to be carrying a bundle of fabric.

"What's this?" she frowned.

"Some of my maternity stuff from the boys," Kim said quietly, her heart still aching as she thought about how hard it was to see them so little, "they might be a little short for you but they won't make that baby think you're trying to squash her."

"Her?" Alex asked.

Kim gave a slightly embarrassed smile.

"My brain keeps telling me it's a girl," she said.

Alex took the pile of garments from her with a grateful smile.

"Kim, thank you," she said. She gave a deep sigh, "my belly's been trying to burst out of these trousers for the last hour and a half."

Kim wasn't really sure whether she was supposed to be doing anything else. She had never had that many houseguests. Usually she'd offer them a stiff drink but didn't think that was appropriate somehow.

"Do you want a coffee or anything?" she asked instead.

"Just some water, if that's OK?" said Alex, "real water that doesn't taste of hospital."

Kim wasn't sure what _hospital_ tasted like but understood the premise.

"No problem," she said and left Alex in peace to get changed.

She found Robin in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboard.

"Oh, no, Rob, you can't be looking for baked beans," she cried, "not for Alex's first meal out! That's cruel!"

"I'm not cooking her bloody _beans!"_ cried Robin, "besides, you'll only accuse me of having cravings again."

Kim bit her lip awkwardly. She wasn't sure Robin was going to let her forget that in a hurry.

"Alex wants a glass of water," she said.

"There's a jug of cold water in the fridge," said Robin.

"Right," Kim nodded and began to look for a glass.

Robin looked at her a little nervously.

"Kim?"

"Hmm?"

Robin shuffled on the floor.

"You know this is where the difficult part begins, don't you?" he said quietly.

Kim nodded slowly.

"I know," she said quietly.

"Now she's out, we need to help her back."

"We'll find a way," Kim said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt, "Alex isn't supposed to stay here. We'll find a way."

She found a glass and poured some cold water for Alex then returned to her makeshift room, knocking gently on the door.

"Ma'am?"

She waited for a moment but there was no reply. Cautiously she peered around the door and found Alex fast asleep on the sofa bed with various pairs of trousers and skirts strewn around her. Her uncomfortable pair had been discarded on the floor and one of Kim's maternity pairs sat far more comfortably around her waist. Leaving the water on the table beside her, Kim smiled and left her to sleep. It had been a big day.

~xXx~

It was the smell that woke Alex. Not the sound of crockery clanking or the beeping of the oven but the aroma of food, _real_ food, not hospital slop or cardboard with cheese but real, appetising, home-cooked food. Her stomach was already rumbling up a storm just from the aroma, but by the time she'd managed to climb from the bed and walk with difficulty out of the room and through to the kitchen she wouldn't have been surprised if she started to drown in her own drool.

"Oh my god, it's _actual food,"_ she breathed.

Robin looked up as he dished up the chicken.

"Yes," he said, "actual food, nothing out of a tin, nothing coked in bulk and most definitely nothing that's on your hospital diet sheet."

"Bleugh," Alex pulled a face, "I'd rather eat the paper it's printed on than the menu they planned out."

"Cabbage soup, ma'am?" Kim asked, well aware she was risking an ear bashing for binging that subject back.

Luckily for her, Alex was too absorbed in the approaching meal to respond and Kim breathed a sigh of relief that her cabbage soup comment had gone unpunished.

The next couple of hours passed quickly. Just doing normal things, knowing that some very extraordinary conversations were on the horizon felt strange. Eating, clearing away the plates, doing the washing up – it was almost like any other evening. Eventually when Alex admitted that she needed to lie down for a while and retired to her room Kim said quietly,

"Rob?"

He looked around as he finished washing the last of the dishes. Kim seemed very quiet and a little nervous.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

Kim bit her lip.

"Do you mind if I have some time alone with Alex?" she asked quietly.

Robin shook his head slowly.

"Of course not," he said quietly. He'd expected that.

Kim smiled a little nervously and set off quietly after Alex. She hoped that she wasn't too tired for a proper conversation. Knocking on the door, she peered around and saw her stretching out on the comfortable sofa bed. It certainly made a change from that hospital monstrosity.

"Ma'am?" she said, "Can we talk?"

Alex looked tired but not sleepy, just drained. She nodded and propped herself up a little.

"As long as you stop calling me ma'am," she said.

Kim looked a little embarrassed.

"Not sure I can." She admitted almost shyly, "I'm not good at breaking habits." She sat down beside her and stared at her hands as she spoke. "It's just… I really needed to talk to you about some things. Things I couldn't say or ask you when you came back before because you hadn't lived them yet… there was so much I couldn't say."

Alex gave a slightly weak smile.

"I understand," she said.

Kim bit her lip

"Thank you," she whispered, for sending me home."

With a slow nod and a flood of emotions, Alex swallowed and knew that the conversation was probably going to end up sending shares in tissues soaring. There was a night of truth on the cards.


	25. Chapter 12, 1996: Colander Brain

**Chapter 12: 1996**

Simon's mind went over and over the events of the morning. All the way through the working day, all the way home, all the way through yet another take-away pizza all he could think about was Eddie, Keats and the 'favours'. When he had eatenas much of the pizza as his troubled mind would allow him too and he'd finished watching Gene scoffing the rest he finally spoke up.

"Gene? Can we talk?"

"I wish you would, you haven't said a bloody word all night, thought I'd gone deaf."

Simon pushed the empty pizza boxes to one side and looked at Gene across the table with a troubled expression. That day, a worrying truth had struck him.

"It's our fault," he said, "what we do. All the pretending and the faking, and the '_it's all real'_. We push them towards him."

Gene stared at Simon, wishing anything he'd just said had made an iota of sense.

"I'm not in the mood for riddles," he said.

"Keats," said Simon.

"Oh god, what's the four-eyed mongoose done now?" Gene leaned back and sighed, "it's just, I've got a lot of pizza in me belly and if you're going to talk about Jimbo I think I'd better get the antacids now."

"He's been trying to snare Eddie," said Simon. He noticed Gene's expression became instantly more serious, "Two envelopes have appeared on my desk lately. Keats asked Eddie to do him _'a favour'_ in exchange for the usual."

"That staple-loving prat," Gene jumped to his feet, "We'll soon see about that."

"Gene, wait," Simon said quickly, "It's alright – filing cabinets are not needed on this occasion." He saw Gene look around and calm down a shade, "It's alright. I spoke to him. I put him straight on a few things. And besides, he'd already realised he was getting nowhere with Keats."

"Didn't stop him letting the greasy git sink his claws in though, did it?"

"That's the thing, Gene," Simon sighed as he watched Gene slowly sink back into his chair, "he's going to keep sinking his claws in unless we change the way we treat people like Eddie. The ones who know."

Gene shook his head.

"Simon, it's the way of the land, been doing it for decades."

"Sometimes change is good," said Simon.

"Not when it came to replacing the presenters on the bloody _Big Breakfast,"_ Gene mumbled.

Simon rolled his eyes.

"Look, no one likes Rick Adams and Sharon Davies, they'll be gone in a few months. And that's beside the point." He eyed him seriously. "Gene, maybe it always worked before Keats. But now that there's someone who's lurking and waiting for the next interloper every time we have to change the way things work. Think about it – imagine how you'd feel if it was you. You wake up in a strange place and you know it's not your home but everyone around you makes you think you've gone crazy. Then suddenly, one day, _one_ person offers you that lifeline. After months of everyone telling you this is real and you're insane someone says _'I know you don't belong here'._ What do you do?" he stared but Gene didn't reply. "You stop and listen. Because it's the first time since you arrived that someone's made sense. Then they say '_I can help you get home'_. And you're missing your family and your friends and your job so much, you'll do anything to get back. You have no reason not to trust Keats – he's the only one you think you _can_ trust because he's the only one who's shown he believes you. Whereas you and me and anyone else around them throws them into filing cabinets and tells them they're crazy." He saw Gene look downward. "Maybe it has worked for decades. But those were decades without a Keats around. Decades with no one to tell them otherwise. Until a time comes that we can destroy him for good, we can't carry on the same way."

Gene breathed deeply. He swallowed as he considered Simon's words. It was true, it really was. He'd never even thought about it that way before. But he couldn't just go rewriting the rules of the world. There were too many good reasons why things couldn't start changing now and even Keats wasn't enough of a reason.

"Not everyone's like Stringer, Simon," he began.

Simon frowned. He wasn't talking about Kim, he'd been talking about Eddie.

"What's Kim got to do with it?" he asked.

"She was one of the good ones," Gene nodded, "when Jimbo blew the secret out into the open and there was no hiding it she never once spoke out of turn. Kept her head down. And it was good, having someone like her around. An ally. Someone who understood. Even kept the Stapler Guy in check for a while." He sighed. "Thing is, Stringer knew to keep her gob shut. Not everyone understands that basic human skill. If someone arrived in the office tomorrow crying about 'is _oPhone –"_

"_iPhone_," Simon sighed. That hadn't come up in months – now twice in one day…

"And you tell 'im, _hey – guess what? You're right – you're not from round 'ere, this a place when coppers go when they're dead, _what do you think's going to happen?" Simon didn't reply. "Imagine if he went and flapped his lips to someone. Someone who had already passed on. Someone who had no idea this wasn't their world. He'd destroy them in ten seconds flat. Take their whole life away, Simon. And that's what they're here for – to have another life. Truth is, when someone shows up in that limbo state we don't know what they'll be like. They might be a Stringer, or they might have a mouth the size of the arse of the woman in the canteen. I know what you're saying. But we can't risk it."

Simon shook his head slowly. He understood Gene's point but it didn't exactly make things any easier. It didn't solve the problem of Keats pouncing on anyone who needed a ticket home.

"Gene, you don't understand… you can never understand what it's like to appear here and have everyone taking the piss at _the weird guy from another time_. It's alright for you, you were already dead. You had no idea what it's like."

Gene picked at his teeth.

"And that makes it '_alright for me'_, does it?" he asked, "being dead is 'alright'?"

Simon closed his eyes.

"No, that's not what I meant." 

Gene looked at Simon. There was something he'd never said before.

"It's certainly no easier, Shoebury. So you die. You come here. You pick up with a new life like nothing ever happened. Great." He reached for his flask, "Until one day you find out. And then you 'ave to work out how to cope with being dead and everything else that comes with it. Yer life not being what you thought it was." He had Simon's full attention now. "_You _came here and you knew you'd 'ad an accident. Not saying it wasn't a shock when Keats broke the news to you in 'is own sensitive way but at least you knew your life was in danger. Most of us don't have that luxury. One day we find out something that kills us all over again."

Simon swallowed as he stared at Gene. He had never looked at it from the other side before. He found himself nodding slowly and his cheeks burning a little. He felt slightly ashamed that he'd never tried to look at it from the side of someone who had already passed away before.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't think about that."

"It's not the easiest thing to find out," Gene said grimly, "and mist of the time - once you know - it's time to move on. Down to the pub, cold one please Nelson, thank you very much." he shook his head. "Unless you've got a job to do."

Simon nodded.

"Like you?" he said quietly.

Gene breathed in deeply. He looked at Simon. No one knew about his own passing, no one except for Alex. Well, and Keats, but he was only counting things that had a heart. He had never talked about it since that day in Farringfield Green. Although this time he had never forgotten, he had never managed to speak about it either. He'd never found anyone he could trust that much for a start.

"I came here with nothing really," he began, "definitely been too young to die. Never even had a chance. How many coppers do you think get a bullet in the head first week on the job?"

Simon swallowed as he felt nausea swirling up inside of him.

"Gene," his voice was barely audible, "I… I'm so sorry, I had no idea…"

Gene swigged from his flask.

"Neither did I," he said, "not for years. Because I just carried on. Went to work the next day like nothing had happened. Thought this was the real me, the real world, never realised that Gene Hunt was still just a kid laying in a shallow grave with half a face."

Simon flinched and swallowed hard. This wasn't easy to listen to.

"I'm so sorry," that was all he could say.

"I did me job well," Gene continued, "and soon I was rising through the ranks. Oh yeah, soon enough someone spotted me potential and there was one more promotion on the cards. But then –" he took a long drink from his flask and concentrated on the taste of the harsh liquid for several seconds before he finally sat it down the table, took a deep breath and concluded, "- I had to know." He looked down, not wanting Simon to see more emotion on his face than he was willing to share. He wasn't good at that. "And once should be enough. But then me colander-brain let it slip through the gaps. Until it was time for someone to move on, and then I remembered. Like learning I was dead for the second time. And then?" he shook his head. "Forgot again. You see the pattern, Simon?"

Simon nodded soberly.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"At least _you_ only had to find out you were dead once," Gene told him, "I 'ad to find out again and again. And the last time?" his flask found its way back to his lips, "it was all thanks to Jimbo and his _oh so subtle_ ways of digging up the truth. Whole world almost fell apart. I panicked. Made stupid decisions. Sent Bolly to the pub with the others. Course, she wasn't meant to go. And when she came back, she made sure I never forgot again."

Simon stared at Gene, seeing a different side to him for the first time. Every instinct in his body told him to go and give Gene a hug, but he really didn't feel his spine could take another turn against the filing cabinet that Gene had actually installed in his lounge for just such an occasion. He settled instead for fetching Gene a proper bottle of scotch and a glass.

"Let's face it," he said quietly, "there's never going to be an easy way. You come here knowing you don't belong and you lose everyone and everything. Or you live a life in blissful ignorance until one day you find out that this was never your life after all. This place is bloody hard work for everyone."

Gene nodded as he nursed his glass.

"Too bloody true, Simon,." He said.

"But," Simon continued, "it's_ important_. _Really_ important. Look how many people you've helped, Gene. You and Alex. How many you've given a life to. I remember when Alex broke the pub and everyone ended up back in the station – not one of them had a bad word to say about you or this place. Not one of them."

Gene nodded slowly. Simon was right. Every one of them had greeted him with respect, with a smile and with thanks for what his world had given them.

Not for the first time since Alex went home he thought about crossing into the Railway Arms and joining them. Those thoughts were passing through his mind more and more frequently now. He felt he had too much unfinished business and ultimately he knew deep down he wasn't ready but as time passed and the distance between him and the last time he'd woken with Alex in bed beside him or the last time held looked into her eyes as they sparkled with some kind of naughty suggestion lengthened he found himself finding fewer reasons to stay where he was. A pint was sounding more appealing all the time.


	26. Chapter 13, 2011: Talking Truth

**Chapter 13: 2011**

Kim had always wanted to say thank you, but wasn't sure she would ever have the chance. When Alex has previously awoken she'd not been able to say a thing. She didn't dare. It wouldn't have been right.

"I tried so hard not to let anything slip before," she said, her voice quieter and softer and Alex was used to hearing it, "because I remembered that when you came back… _went_ back…to ninety five, you never once mentioned my future. You didn't even tell me that we'd met again. And I was so grateful for that, Ma'am. I wouldn't have wanted to know. So I figured that you wouldn't either." She bit her lip. "Except for the Christmas thing. Sorry… I kind of let some of that slip."

Alex's smile was a little nostalgic.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "and you're right. I wouldn't have wanted to know what was ahead. Except to know that I made it back."

Kim nodded and looked down, a little self-conscious.

"When he stabbed me," her mind went to her parting from 1996, "that crazy guy… I thought it was over for me in both worlds. No way home. No way to live on where I was. I had never been so scared." As she looked back at her, Alex saw there was an unfamiliar vulnerability in her eyes. "But then you held me and I felt so safe."

Alex knew that tears were imminent. She could feel them thinking about making their escape.

"That's what we do," she whispered.

Kim nodded.

"And that was the moment that I realised it," she said quietly, "I realised why you and Gene and Simon did what you did. I had never felt so safe. No one had ever made me feel so…" she tried to think of the right word. Protected? Cared for? "_Secure_," she said eventually, "I'd never felt so secure before. And, to be honest, Ma'am, I never had since." She gave a tiny smile and glanced in the direction of the kitchen where she knew Robin would still be. "Until now, anyway."

Alex felt her heart starting to beat a little faster. It was the first time that she had ever been able to hear someone speak so candidly about what it was like from the other side; to feel the warmth and the love and the protection as they were sent on or sent home. While Simon had touched on the matter after he returned to Gene's world their conversation had been somewhat awkward and shallow, with Alex unsure at the time how much she was allowed to say to him.

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say those things," she said quietly. She swallowed and took a deep breath. "When I went back to Gene there was something that played on my mind, how so often it seems as though coming to the other world and then coming back here… how it's messed people up. I wondered sometimes whether what we do is right."

"It is," Kim said quickly, "believe me."

Alex couldn't believe the marked difference in Kim from her last time in 2011. Previously the awkward, almost sad girl had spoken about the struggles she'd faced as she adjusted to life in the real world again and it had left Alex worrying about the effect that the other world had on those who were lucky enough to make it back. But whatever had troubled Kim through all those years she had now lain to rest and found peace with.

"You seem so… _different_… to the last time I was here," she couldn't help but comment.

Kim felt herself reddening in the cheeks a little. The blush and accompanying smile told Alex that she was proud of her own progress.

"I'd spent eight years trying to put it out of my head," she admitted, "trying to be someone else. I completely lost _Kim Stringer. _I left her behind. I became a fake person who never really existed. I tried to forget who I was before. But when you were here… I had no choice but to face it. And slowly I realised that I was still the same person."

"I'm glad, Kim," Alex said quietly. She'd been quite concerned about what Kim had been through before.

"And then there was Robin," Kim said quietly, trying to hide the smile that was growing on her lips, "He's helped so much".

"I'm really pleased for you both," Alex told her honestly, "even though just _telling_ me you were a couple would have sufficed –"

"We never intended to give you such a graphic representation!" Kim assured her with shame, "bloody doctors and their _no shocks_ policy."

"I admit, I found it a little hard to understand at first," Alex told her, "I didn't understand how it _worked_. But then, thinking about it, people most likely look at Gene and I and think the same thing, although for very different reasons." She smiled sadly as she thought about how much she missed him and needed to get home. "We're very different. I could never have seen myself with anyone as rough around the edges as Gene before. And I'm sure he could never have seen himself putting up with such a –" she smiled, "mouthy tart. But somehow –"

"Some things are just meant to be," Kim nodded.

"Life is full of surprises."

"Tell your doctor that!"

Alex couldn't resist laughing at that comment.

"It must have been as frustrating for you and Robin to have to keep everything from me while the doctors were trying to keep me 'calm'," she remarked.

"Oh, ma'am, if only you knew," cried Kim, "we were always terrified if saying too much."

Alex bit her lip.

"And now?" she began, "Is there anything that… you haven't told me yet? Anything that I should know?"

She could see from the look on Kim's face that it was highly likely.

"There are some gaps," Kim admitted, "we didn't tell you everything."

Alex nodded slowly.

"Could… could you tell me now?" she asked quietly.

Km hesitated.

"Do you think you're ready?" she asked quietly.

Alex took a deep breath.

"If I'm ever going to work out how to get home then I'll have to be," she said quietly.

Kim nodded slowly. She understood.

"I'll get Robin," she said quietly.

"OK," Alex nodded, a nervous smile on her face. She hesitated as Kim left the room. _"And get a pen,"_ she called after her with one quick glance towards the flip chart, "I sense brainstorming ahead."

She lay back against the soft sofa bed for a moment and closed her eyes. She knew Robin and Kim wouldn't be the only ones sharing truths and secrets that night. She was going to have to do a lot of sharing to bring them up to speed on things from the other side of the line. It was the only way for everyone to see the whole picture -which was the best way to find her way home

~xXx~

It all felt a little bit surreal to Alex as she sat back on her sofa bed, the lighting in the room quite low and atmospheric. Being out of hospital and back in the flat where she'd had to hide out all those months ago still felt strange. More strange than that was watching Kim and Robin behaving as a proper couple in their own environment, especially with the changes that they'd both been through over the course of the last few months. She felt especially confused by Robin clutching a glass of brandy. That made her wonder exactly how serious the conversation was going to be.

"There are things you need to know about Keats," Kim said quietly, "what he did when he woke in Layton's body."

Alex felt a terrible shudder through her body. This was one of those things where she really wished that she didn't have to know.

"Alright," she said quietly. She noticed that Robin's eyes were turned downwards, focused on his glass. He seemed to have turned a very pale shade indeed.

"We didn't know it was Keats at first," Kim said quietly, "it just seemed that Layton had woken up. He'd been in a coma for a few weeks. But almost straight away he attacked medical staff, guards and innocent members of the public to escape from the hospital."

"He went to Evan's first," Robin finally spoke, his voice quiet and distant, "he didn't hurt him. Just took his clothes, blunted his beard trimmer and left him all tied up and trouserless. And you know what happened with us and Molly being held on the barge."

Alex's stomach still turned at the thought of Molly being one of Keats' s victims. As much as she hated the doctors and their _'no shocks'_ policy, on this occasion she could understand why they had kept that from her for a while. She cried often when she thought about it. She swallowed and tried not to start again. She knew that Molly was safe and well, and that's what she had to focus on. For now there were other parts of the story that they needed to tell her.

"Go on," she said quietly.

"Keats picked up some of Layton's habits," Kim told her, "he'd gone to shoot up and when he came back… he went into a rage," she neglected to mention that the rage was caused by finding them kissing, "he was going to…" she trailed away, her voice wavering too much to continue and she looked to Robin who tried to continue for her.

"He was going t-to rape her," his own voice wasn't much stronger and he couldn't get far beyond that himself.

"Robin stopped him, but –" Kim whispered.

They both fell silent. They'd reached a dead end of what they could say. They looked at each other with such distraught expressions that Alex wasn't sure she wanted to hear any more but she knew that it was important. She let them have a few moments before she said quietly,

"Go on."

Kim swallowed.

"He was going to… to do it to Robin instead," her voice almost gave out with every word as Alex's expression contorted with horror, "and he took him back to his old flat."

"That's why I don't live there any more," Robin managed to whisper before he drank a lot of brandy on one go.

Kim trembled visibly as she carried on.

"He…he _didn't_… but he was going to. Rob said he freaked out when he saw a photo of his parents. We don't know why, we're just thankful that he didn't go through with it."

"He started trashing everything," Robin said quietly, "and then demanded that I take him to your hospital room. He wanted to kill you so he could put you through on an instant transfer to Fenchurch west, but –"

"Robin wasn't having that," Kim spoke up for him, "he fought him, hard, and somehow killed Keats… but Layton survived."

"I don't understand."

Kim looked down.

"I remember seeing Keats's video, in my hospital room, in ninety five," she said quietly, "when Gene shot him… and the wounds vanished?" she bit her lip, "sounds like the same thing happened."

"As soon as Keats left his body all that was left was an unconscious Layton," Robin said quietly.

"You know that buzzing noise he used to make at you?" Kim said quietly.

Alex frowned.

"Yes," she said, "what _was_ that about?"

"It was because he saw your tattoo," Robin explained, "that made him angry." He paused and frowned, "he was angry about mine as well. Maybe he just… disapproves of body art?"

Alex found herself breathing very deeply as she tried to take in what she was hearing. There had been a number of strange things that Keats had said and done after waking from his coma. He'd been very fond of the cryptic clues but his taunting had more or less fallen on deaf ears as his comments were too obscure and no one understood what he was talking about. Slowly they started to make more sense to her.

"Is there anything else I need to know?" she asked quietly.

Kim and Robin looked at one another.

"I can't think of anything right now," Kim said, "but if there is, we'll tell you when we remember."

Alex nodded. She closed her eyes and leaned back a little.

"Thank you," she said.

Robin bit his lip.

"Alex, you're exhausted," he said, "maybe we should leave the rest of this conversation for another time."

"No, there's something I need to say," Alex told him, "I'll be alright." Their faces watched her expectantly as she drew in her breath and began, "I have to get home. And I don't know how I'm going to get there, but I have to. It's hard to admit… _really_ hard… but I don't belong here. Not any more." She looked down. "Even with Molly. So much water under the bridge. And it kills me inside to admit this." She hesitated as she wondered just how bad a mother she must be to choose another life over her own daughter, but it was far more complicated than that. She'd built up a while new life with Gene and she was very much needed there. And besides, Molly wasn't the only child Alex had to think about now. As heartless as it sounded Molly was growing up fast and had managed surprisingly well for the last three and a half years without Alex around. She knew that Molly could survive without her. She wasn't sure that she could say the same for Gene and the baby, let alone the world.

"We'll do everything we can to help you, Ma'am," Kim promised.

"The only thing is, I don't know where to begin," Alex said quietly, "I don't know how to get home. I don't know if I _can_. But I have to try." She gave a deep sigh. "It's not like last time where there was another _me_ still in the nineties. There's just one of me now, right here. There's only one way back, and that's through dying." She paused, "or coming damn close."

"You can't commit suicide," Robin began quickly, "Keats –"

"I know, I know that," Alex was quick to say, "besides, I'm not really the Sam Tyler type. I don't think I could do that." She shook her head. "I just feel… I know… somehow, that I will get back. But there's something I need to do here first. I _have_ to be back for a reason. Now I need to figure out what that reason is."

"Have you any idea?" Robin asked, "any thoughts at all?"

"I've had many, many thoughts," Alex sighed. Weeks in hospital had given her a lot of time to think. "But there's one that comes back to me time and again." She looked down. It was hard to even think about it. "I had a dream. It…" she flinched at the memory, "it told me that I need to help Gene."

"In what way?" asked Robin as Kim asked,

"From here? How?"

Alex bit her lip. She hated to talk about this.

"Many years ago," she whispered, "a television news report filtered through my coma as a bleedthrough. It spoke of a… a body," her voice broke and her eyes started to glisten with tears, "that had been found in a shallow grave." She swallowed, "it was Gene."

She looked up at Robin and Kim who were staring at her in silence. They both appeared to turn very pale suddenly.

"Are… are you sure?" Kim whispered.

Alex nodded, her eyes closed.

"Believe me, it's true," she whispered. She took a deep breath. "In my dream… a voice told me... he wasn't at peace," she continued quietly, "I don't know in what way. Maybe they never could identify him. Maybe he wasn't given a proper burial. Or maybe I was supposed to help him to be at peace some other way? To find out about who he was when he was still alive. Who he was in this world before he became the Gene Hunt that I came to meet all those years layer." She looked at them again. "Maybe there's another reason. I won't ignore any other thoughts we have, because I don't know for certain. But if I'm back to help Gene to be at peace then I need to work out exactly what I have to do."

Robin nodded slowly. Then he handed her a pan.

"Then get brainstorming, Alex," he said with a tiny, nervous smile.

~xXx~

It must have been an hour later and the flipchart was covered with writing. Alex felt a whole world better for just having lists to refer to. She looked at the list of names down the left hand side of the board; suggestions for people who she may have been back to help in some way or another. Molly, Evan, even Robin and Kim were on the list. But at the top, underlined and circled in triplicate was Gene's name. She liked to cover all possibilities but when it came down to it she knew in her heart that there was only one person she was back in the real world to help.

"At least that's a start," she said, feeling accomplished as she sat back on the sofa bed. She hated to admit it but her strength was fading fast. Both Robin and Kim looked as exhausted as she was.

"I think we should wrap it up there for the night," Robin told her, "I'm drained. I don't know how tired you must be feeling."

Alex hated to admit that he was right but she'd reached the end of her energy for the night.

"More brainstorming tomorrow," she said quietly with a weary smile.

Robin and Kim said goodnight to her and left the room before Kim had a second thought and told Robin she was going to take Alex some fresh water for the night.

"You go to bed," she told him, "I'll be there in a moment."

"OK," Robin said quietly. He'd seemed a little off since the subject of Keats had come up.

Kim watched him head to the bedroom, then poured some cold water for Alex and took it into her room.

"Ma'am?" she said quietly, fearing she was already asleep.

Alex was lying down, but still awake. She's found the remote and switched on the TV.

"Oh, thank you," she said as she saw the glass in Kim's hand, "I'm so thirsty. Too much talking."

She took the water gratefully and took a long drink as Kim shuffled awkwardly. There was something on her mind.

"Erm, ma'am," she began, "you're… you're a psychologist, right?"

Alex nodded.

"Yes…?"

Kim bit her lip.

"W-what do you know about hysterical pregnancy?"

The question had caught Alex completely off guard.

"Uh," she frowned. It wasn't something she'd really encountered, "It's a condition by which a woman – often through psychological reasons – has multiple symptoms of pregnancy without actually being pregnant."

Kim hesitated.

"A woman?" she repeated.

Alex's frown deepened.

"Well… yes," she said.

Kim bit her lip.

"So not a man, then?"

Alex tried to work out what was going on.

"Why would a man think he was pregnant?" she asked, confused.

Kim closed her eyes.

"No reason," she said a little sheepishly. She started to back towards the door. "Night, ma'am. I'd better go." She bit her lip, "…I think I have some grovelling to do…"


	27. Chapter 13, 1996: Alleged Toastercide

**Chapter 13: 1996**

As the days passed and December was in full swing Gene started to think about the previous year. The early part of the month had been taken up with trying to bring _his_ Alex home, but Christmas itself had been something fairly special, and not just because of the Buzz Lightyear toy Gene received, much to his delight.

"Who's going to buy me a bloody Dipsy this year?" he sighed, contemplating 1996's Toy of the Year. He's initially wanted Tinky Winky until someone had informed him that the Teletubby in question was suspected of being part of the rainbow brigade and he'd changed his mind abruptly.

He thought back to the last Christmas day; when Simon and Kim – waifs and strays – had gate-crashed their festivities and he'd spent the whole day working through more and more elaborate plans to evict them from the premises.

"Looks like _I'm_ the bloody waif and stray this year," he muttered as he went back to shaving.

Neither he nor Simon had mentioned Christmas. It was a bit of a sore point to them both. He assumed – and hoped – that Simon wouldn't mind him staying on a bit longer and spending Christmas there. He knew if he spent Christmas by himself he'd down more whiskey than Santa would cookies and he didn't want to get back on that slope.

He thought about Christmases spent in Manchester; piss-ups down the Railway Arms, crazy Christmas parties in the office and then a week of nothing but turkey stuffed down his neck. Sometimes he thought about what life would be like it he'd never moved down south. OK, so he wouldn't have spent the last sixteen years with Alex but now he wouldn't have been feeling this way either.

What was that stupid quote? _'It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.'_

"Is it bollocks," he mumbled as he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

His blue eyes were bloodshot and it wasn't even from the drink. It was the stress, the strain and the months of being in limbo, waiting and hoping that Alex might come home. He needed to stop thinking that way. It was only hurting him more. She wasn't a bloody homing pigeon or a cat that had climbed into someone's car by mistake that would make it home from hundreds of miles away to appear on the _'and finally' _segment on the Ten O'Clock news.

Eventually he had to shut all those thoughts from his mind and concentrate on work instead. He didn't want to be late – he had a few important tasks to see to that day.

~xXx~

Simon stared at his reflection in the bedroom mirror. What the hell had happened to him? It had been a little over a year since he'd arrived in Gene's world, yet he seemed to have aged by ten to look at him. So much for '_we don't age the same way here'. _Yeah, maybe that's true when you're happy and enjoying your life. When you would rather be on the other side of the line between life and death then there's little to keep you bright and alive.

He knew that he'd brought some of it on himself. He'd been eating crap, drinking too much and getting very little sleep for the last year. But his skin just seemed so lifeless and his eyes looked grey instead of their usual blue. He hardly recognised himself sometimes.

And Christmas was coming. _Again_. Had it really been a bloody year since the last debacle? He remembered his Grinch-like stance. He'd boycotted all the festivities and lived to regret it. That's how come he and Kim found themselves gatecrashing Alex and Gene's celebrations in the first place.

He felt pretty certain that Gene would be hanging around until at least the new year, and he was glad of that. He really didn't want to be on his own for the festive period. He sighed as he realised that he'd learned a valuable lesson from the year before. While he might not exactly be able to enjoy Christmas the way he would have done back home he gained nothing from boycotting the damn season either.

Maybe he could hit a compromise. This year he'd get a tree and a few decorations. Maybe he'd even get gene that Teletubby he was always going on about. He'd been a miserable git for most of the year and Gene's plight had caused him to start to pull his socks up a bit. He wasn't going to promise a veritable winter wonderland but at least he wasn't going to be a Scrooge this year.

~xXx~

Despite their Christmas musings there were still a couple of weeks to go before the big day and work of course was most important. Simon wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do with the case about someone who had reported their toaster coming to life and electrocuting their neighbour. He knew he was supposed to be head of hi-tech crimes but blaming your appliances for actually perpetrating them was taking the label to extremes.

"Shoebury."

Simon looked up from the terrible photographs from the crime scene – frazzled neighbours, bread _everywhere_….

"Gene," he sighed, "_thank_ you."

Gene hesitated.

"I haven't done anything yet."

"You saved me from developing an irrational fear of toasters," said Simon. He turned the photographs over so that he didn't have to look at them any more. "What can I do for you?"

Gene held a file towards him.

"Been several months since you," he paused, "lost Lindsay." He saw Simon's spirits sink before him. Lindsay's death had affected most of the station. She was just one of those bright young people who brought a smile to those around her and things hadn't been quite the same since she died. "Thought you could use some help around here."

"New recruit?" Simon asked as he leaned forward and took the file.

"Transfer," said Gene, "Eddie's all yours. Just watch yer stapler."

Simon looked at Gene, a little confused.

"Eddie?" he repeated, "What -?"

Gene looked at him seriously.

"You've done good work with him," he told Simon. Straight away after Simon and Eddie had spoken Gene saw a difference in Eddie's attitude and behaviour. He was grateful for that, it was one less weight on his mind and he no longer worried about leaving his stapler unattended for long periods of time either.

"Uh," Simon wasn't sure how to react to that. Gene was usually giving him a bollocking rather than praising something he'd done. And to be fair, he usually deserved it too. "Thank you," he stood up and leafed through his file. "I really could do with some help around here. Vickery still favours the toilet-crying technique when it comes to detective work."

"I'll send the staple-loving idiot over when he gets back with me lattes," said Gene.

Simon raised an eyebrow.

"I notice you waited until after the latte run to make the transfer…" he said.

"Course I did," Gene huffed, "I'm not stupid."

He left Simon to ponder over the best course of action to take regarding homicidal appliances and returned to his office. Eddie wasn't back yet. _Damnit_, he wanted that latte. His blood latte level had fallen below the Gene Approved amount and he was starting to suffer withdrawal symptoms. He stared out of the window, watching a giant steaming cup of coffee pull out of the car park and then sighed as the phone rang.

"Better not be Eddie forgetting me bloody order again," he mumbled as he snatched up the receiver. Before he could even say a word, Keats's sarcastic tone greeted his unwelcoming ear.

"Good morning Gene," he said brightly, "Oh, I do love the festive season, don't you?"

Gene felt his whole body shudder. That wasn't a voice anyone wanted to hear on the line.

"If yer calling up to serenade me with carols you're wasting yer time," he began, "I've already heard yer singing and yer tone deaf."

"Where will you be spending Christmas this year, Gene?" Keats asked, "with family?"

"Yeah, I thought I might spend it in the lion enclosure at the zoo, feeding you to me mates one limb at a time," Gene told him and hung up. He wasn't in the mood for any of Keats's sarcasm and riddles. It was all far too much effort to work out what he was talking about. He knew Keats was on the lookout for a new muppet to replace Eddie. Gene hated the way he constantly preyed on the weaker members of the station. He seemed to have a nose for them. He could sniff them out at fifty paces.

He would just have to be on alert, as would they all. Keats had snared his last interloper. Gene and Simon's recent discussion had taught them both a few things about the nature of the world but also brought Gene to realise just how wary he needed to be.

He sank into his chair and leaned back, his eyes closing for a moment. He knew that the world wasn't as strong as it used to be. Losing Alex had shaken its foundations and even now they were struggling to settle. He hoped that between them he and Simon could keep the foundations as secure as possible, because if she did find her way back he wanted to welcome her home to a place that was safe and secure, not full of Jimbo-fodder.

The first step to feeling safe and secure, Gene commented as he spotted Eddie walking towards his office, was a nice warming latte.

"Oi, Stapler Guy," he said as Eddie opened the door.

Eddie froze, tray of lattes in hand.

"Oh, what have I done?" he sighed, "I swear I haven't laid a finger on your stationery!"

Gene shook his head.

"No, not done anything this time," he said, "Got a proposition for you. A transfer." he paused, remembering Simon's case. "How d'you feel about toasters?"


	28. Chapter 14, 2011: Night Terrors

**Chapter 14: 2011**

As Alex closed her eyes and began to drift away she felt a boulder in the pit of her stomach. There was a nagging worry that had started to build. The next day she had to face something she had been trying hard to put out of her mind for some time. Molly would be visiting after school and there was absolutely no way she could hide her pregnancy any longer. She would have to tell the girl – but exactly what to tell her, Alex really had no idea.

She couldn't explain about Gene or his world. She hated the fact that Molly would have to believe the hospital's side of it but what else could she do? She was dreading it with every bone in her body.

Her hands reached down and gently rubbed her stomach. She still found it difficult to get into the mindset of having two children rather than one. She dreaded the conversation the next day but couldn't deny the fact that it would be a relief not to have to hide it any longer.

She could feel herself sliding into sleep so she let herself drift. It had been a very long day.

~xXx~

Kim had every intention of apologising to Robin as she went sheepishly through the doorway into their room but the look on his face took all her thoughts from her.

"Rob, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

Robin was sitting in bed with his shirt off, laying on the floor beside him. He couldn't quiet meet her eyes.

"When I look in the mirror all I see are your beautiful designs," he said quietly referring to the tattoos that Kim had inked around the scars Keats left across his body, "but in my mind… whenever I have to talk about it… all I see are those cuts."

Kim sat down gently beside him. She knew how hard Robin had found it adjusting to his scarred body. For so long he wouldn't even let her look at him or touch him. One very long session in the tattoo studio had helped him by miles, but she knew that conversations like the one that night brought the mental scars back to the surface as much as the ones on his skin.

"We won't have to talk about it again," she said quietly, "Alex knows everything she needs to know about it now. Put that back out of your mind." She paused as she leaned a little closer and whispered, "He's not going to hurt you now."

Robin looked down, his breathing shallow.

"One day she'll probably see them," he said quietly.

"What? Who?"

"Alex. Maybe I'll forget she's here and go to the kitchen to get a drink without my shirt on or something, Or I'll spill a whole glass of coke over myself and take my top off without thinking. And then she'll get that look on her face." He shook his head slowly. "Things like that… I never thought about."

"All she'll see are my kick-ass tattoo designs," Kim slightly teased, trying to get a smile out of Robin. She slipped her hand around his shoulder. "Rob, Alex has scars too. Do you look at her with 'that' look on your face when her hair moves to one side and you see the bullet wound on her forehead?" she watched him shake his head. "Do you get 'that' look on your face when you see the scar on my neck? Or the one on my stomach?" he shook his head again. "She won't pity you and she won't do anything to make you feel bad, Rob. Not now that she knows. She'll be too busy thinking '_wow, look at that art,_ _I must get another tattoo when I've had the baby…'_ to think anything of the sort," she knew that she was making light of it, but they'd already done a lot of serious taking about those scars in the past. This wasn't the time. "It's been a very long and difficult day. We're all tired. Let's go to bed. In the morning, you'll feel better. I swear it."

Robin knew that there was every chance he'd still be worrying about his scars – more about the memories they brought back than their physical appearance – but that was something he had to deal with alone. He gave Kim a weak smile and allowed her to sweep him into her arms for a hug before they settled down in bed for the night.

Alex's homecoming had brought with it a lot of memories and issues that neither had thought about, but they would face them as and when they needed to.

~xXx~

There was that dream again. The road; driving along. There were others in the car and this time Alex saw their faces. Robin and Kim were with her – it made sense. They were joining her on this journey, whether that was in a literal or a metaphorical sense.

Where was she going? She still wasn't sure.

_To The North,_ the sign above them stated as they continued to drive along.

_Where do I need to go, Gene?_ She begged silently, _what do I need to do? Can you tell me that much?_

She didn't receive a reply but she knew she was on the right road – both the road the car was travelling along and the road that her thoughts were taking her.

It _was _Gene. He _was_ the one who needed her help.

_How can I get home, Gene?_

The answer didn't come to her, but as she awoke with a start she realised that for the first time her sleep had been accompanied by a sense of peace and hope. She knew now where she was heading, even though she didn't know why or what she needed to do when she got there.

"I'm coming home to you, Gene," she whispered into the darkness. The flip chart was beckoning.

~xXx~

Kim awoke in the night to hear Robin groaning and whimpering. She tried to focus in the dim light and saw his outline sitting at the end of the bed.

"_Now_ what's the matter?" she asked but the only reply she got was an agonised howl. Worried by now she switched on the lamp beside her and crawled out of bed. The sight that greeted her made her start to panic. She watched Robin as he cradled his greatly swollen belly, in clear pain. "Oh _god!"_ she cried.

"Don't worry about me," Robin panted, "It's only_ wiiiiiIIIIINNNNNNDDDDDD!" _he cried as the pain overcame him again.

"What the hell _happened_ to you?" Kim cried as she looked at his enlarged gut in horror. There'd been no sign of that the night before. She felt her mouth fall open and she shared at him, aghast. "Have you been at the beans again?"

"No," Robin shifted and got up from the end of the bed, hunched over with his hands leaning against it. Now she could see the full size of his stomach, "I just woke up and I was in pa… pa…. _PAIIIIIIIINNNNN!"_

Kim's heart leapt into her mouth.

"Oh my god, Rob, you're in labour!" she cried.

Robin's horrified face turned to her.

"_What?"_

"Don't move," she cried, "I'll get the towels!"

"The _what?"_ Robin cried but it was too late as Kim was already out of the door. She returned a moment layer with a bundle of towels which tumbled to the bed.

"How are you doing?" she asked him.

"It _hurts,"_ Robin whimpered.

"I know," Kim rushed to him and rubbed his back. She tried to remember what she did when she had her boys but she couldn't remember the breathing exercises and she recalled punching a midwife for patronising her with them anyway so she decided to leave well enough alone. "Rob, you're going to have to take your boxers off."

"I _can't,"_ Robin cried.

"I'll do it," said Kim. She froze as she was about to help him and suddenly asked, "Wh-which bit does it come out of?"

"I don't know!" screamed Robin, "I've never had a baby befo_-o-o-o-o-r-r-r-e-e-e-e!"_

Kim moved from the front to the back of him, over and over, holding out her hands as though to catch falling offspring.

"Well it's got to be one bit or the other," she muttered.

"It's not getting out through either of _those!"_ Robin panicked.

"You can do this, Robin," Kim tried to reassure him, stroking his hair, "slow, deep breaths." She swallowed hard as she wondered whether she should be calling for an ambulance or the military or something. Robin was in agony and she didn't know how to help him. "Come on, Rob, you're going to have to push."

"What? _No,_ I _can't!"_ he cried, "I don't have anything to push with!"

"You have to try, Rob! You have to get the baby out!"

"_How?"_ he cried.

"Wait for the next contraction and then push," she commanded.

"I don't think that's…" he trailed away as he felt his stomach tightening again, "Oh god… it's _coming…."_

"Push, Rob, _push!"_

"Oh god…. _Aaarrrggghhhh!"_

"Push! You can do it! Come on –_ PUSH!"_

"_AAAAARRRGGGHHHHHHH- - -"_

"_- - -ARGH!" _Kim cried as she sat bolt upright in bed, her forehead drenched in sweat and her hands trembling. She turned over and saw Robin sleeping soundly beside her, as peaceful as always. Anxiously she peeled up the duvet. Robin's body looked perfectly normal; no giant distended stomach in sight. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank _god."_

She bit her lip as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Nightmares about Robin giving birth? She cringed as she remembered confronting him with the printout about Hysterical Pregnancy the day before. What was the matter with her? Of _course_ Robin didn't think he was pregnant – he was a man for god's sake! Now she was dreaming about him going into labour?

"Which of us is the one with the problem?" she muttered.

Slowly she sank back into bed, staring at the man beside her. The strange visions her dream had given her disturbed her somewhat. Not that she really thought Robin was pregnant.

"…but he _has_ had a lot of symptoms," she muttered, "and we _have_ been trying…"

She bit her lip as a momentary panic engulfed her, before she shook her head and sighed deeply. _"Men don't get pregnant!"_ she reminded herself crossly. Pulling the duvet over her head and groaning with embarrassment she chastised herself for her ridiculous thoughts. It was probably time to brush up her biology knowledge, she decided.

~xXx~

It had been impossible for Alex to get back to sleep after waking from her dream. Her mind was active and the pens were calling her. She switched on the lamp beside the sofa bed and slowly moved across to the flipchart. She pulled up a chair beside it so that she could sit down when she needed to, took a pen and began to make notes. She thought about the meaning of the dream; Gene needed to find peace. Why wasn't he at rest?

"So what do I know…?" she muttered as she started making notes, "there was the news report… all it said was that a body had been found…"

She wrote on the board "_News report – long time ago now? Gene's body found"_

She tried to remember what else the report had said, but all she'd heard was that the body was thought to be that of a police officer and a post mortem was being carried out to find the likely cause and date of death. Well, that was all very well but what if they couldn't establish those facts sufficiently? What if the body was too badly decayed to identify him? What if they were never able to place the body as being Gene Hunt, officer 6620?

She shuddered as she added those possibilities to the board. What if they _did_ find out who he was but couldn't trace any family? What if he'd never had a proper burial? What if he didn't have a proper grave stone or no one had ever laid flowers on his grave? There were too many possibilities. Her writing could hardly keep up with her mind.

Eventually she felt so tired from her hurried writing that she needed to sit down. As she flexed her hand and waited for her energy to return her mind wandered to the last time she has woken in 2011. She recalled borrowing Evan's laptop – his 'folding computer' – desperate to work out what was going on. She'd searched for '_Gene Hunt'_ online and all she'd found were things about human DNA and, bizarrely, a lot of sites about David Bowie tracks. But nothing about a shallow grave or a body. With a dark and horrible realisation she shuddered and bit on her lip.

"_My god,"_ she whispered, "_they were never able to identify Gene's body."_

The discovery of his body was just the first step. Finding out who he was clearly hadn't been an easy task. What about the warrant card? And the 6620? She closed her eyes as she remembered that god-awful day on Farringfield Green. Had they left those artefacts? No… she knew as a fact Gene had the 6620 in his desk drawer. The warrant card, she couldn't remember what happened to that, but if neither was there and the body was too badly decomposed –

"Oh _Gene,"_ she closed her eyes and let out a pained sigh, "they might have found _you_… but they still don't _know_ it's you."

No wonder the dreams were giving her a firm shove in the right direction. No wonder she felt as though she had a job to do. She needed to succeed where others had failed and to give Gene his identity so that he could be at rest on this plain.

How the hell was she going to do that? A woman who's been in a coma for years can't just turn up one day and announce she knows the identity of a long-dead corpse. How is she supposed to explain that?

Reluctantly she crawled back under the covers, staring at the list on the board. She felt that she'd made a big leap forward now but the hard work was still to come.

_One step at a time,_ she had to remind herself.

But she never had been a very patient person.

~xXx~

It had taken some time for Kim to be able to get back to sleep after her nightmare. She kept eyeing up Robin in a panic, expecting him to suddenly go into labour or lay an egg or something else equally ridiculous. When she finally did fall asleep again her rest was shallow and disturbed, and she awoke around eight to find the bed empty beside her. That wasn't a surprise – while Robin was heading to work she was staying at home to make sure Alex was alright. They were taking it in turns for the first couple of weeks before assessing how much support Alex really needed around the flat.

However, she just had a strange and niggling feeling that something was wrong, so she cautiously climbed out of bed, threw on some clothes and tiptoed to the kitchen where she found a dejected Robin sitting at the far side of the room. Her immediate thought was that he was still upset about his scars from the conversation the night before but she wasn't certain. She walked slowly towards him and saw a strange, watery look to his eyes.

"Robin?" Kim was fairly sure that he was crying again. She'd never seen him shedding the tears like this until recently. Hell, it was one of the reasons she'd thought he might be suffering from a weird hysterical pregnancy in the first place. She walked up to him slowly as he stared out of the window. "Rob? Is something the matter?"

Robin looked down, then reluctantly looked at Kim.

"I think you were right," he sniffed.

"What about?"

Robin sighed with shame.

"I think I'm having a historical pregnancy."

"Hysterical."

"Whatever."

Kim sighed and shook her head, sinking into the chair beside him.

"I owe you an apology about that," she said, "I don't know why I thought that. I feel really stupid now."

"No, you're right, you _must_ be right," said Robin.

"Rob, you're a _man_, I totally ignored that part when I was looking up your symptoms and I know now that you can't have a hysterical pregnancy."

"But I _can!"_ Robin said miserably, "there's something the matter with me… I must be going crazy or something."

"You're not, and you need to stop listening to me when I'm talking crap," said Kim.

"No, it makes sense," Robin shook his head, "you were right, I've been really upset lately thinking about the miscarriages and didn't want to talk about it because I didn't want to upset you. That must be why."

"I was being an idiot."

"But I've got all the _signs!"_ Robin howled, "I can't stop eating beans. I keep crying. I was throwing up my guts the other morning."

"Yeah, so was _I,_ that was food poisoning," Kim said a little awkwardly, "I don't think I cooked dinner long enough. See, that's why you're the chef in this place and I just open the jars."

Robin shook his head and got to his feet.

"No," he said, "you were right. I'm a freak."

He hung his head and started to slowly walk away, rubbing his belly.

Kim groaned and slammed her head against the table. Why the hell had she opened her big mouth in the first place? Now she'd made him think he was going crazy and he was going to go and start picking out maternity dresses or something.

"_I think I've broken Robin_," she wailed.

~xXx~

When Kim had managed to calm Robin down enough to send him off to work without any risk of him wandering to an antenatal appointment on the way she took a cup of coffee in to Alex's room.

"Ma'am?" she peered around the door, "are you awake?"

Alex was sitting up in bed, staring at the lists she'd made in the night.

"Morning," she said tiredly.

The full page caught Kim's eye.

"Blimey, you've been busy," she said. Her eyes scanned some of the suggestions that Alex had scribbled down as she placed Alex's coffee beside her.

"I had a bit of a brainstorm in the night," Alex said.

Kim couldn't understand all of the thoughts that Alex had written down but she supposed there would be plenty of time for her to explain them later.

"Would you like any breakfast?" she asked.

"Yes please," Alex said gratefully; the relief at no longer trying to smear half-frozen butter mountains into cold toast with a plastic knife was overwhelming.

In fact, Alex was grateful for many things that day. Being able to get dressed without anyone 'helping her' in and out of clothes, watching TV without having to crane her neck to an extraordinary angle to see the TV set, having normal, natural conversations with Kim that weren't broken up by bed baths and thermometers arriving in unpleasant places – just getting back to a normal way of life.

But the more time passed and the more her 'normal' day went on the closer she came to Molly's arrival and with it the truth that she was so scared of spilling. She watched the hands of the clock as they moved slowly around to 4pm and sure enough the buzzer went right on cue. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for the difficult conversation ahead as Kim's voice called out,

"Don't worry, I've got it."

Alex breathed in deeply once again, but it felt like she just couldn't get enough oxygen into her lungs. Damn this, it shouldn't be this hard, should it? Molly was her daughter and even though things had been awkward she would understand, wouldn't she? 

It was time to find out.

She heard Molly's voice before the teenager was even through the doorway. She could hear Kim making some feeble attempt at getting the girl to take off her coat and shoes but Molly was a girl with a mission and she tore through the flat until she found the room where Alex was staying.

"_Mum!"_

Despite the distance that time had put between them, hearing Molly's voice like that, so full of excitement and joy at the thought of seeing her, warmed Alex's heart. She barely had time to open her arms to receive the young lady as she flew through the rom and gripped her in a tight hug, for the first time not bound by hospital beds. Alex tried to hold her a slight distance away, not wanting her to discover the bump before she had a chance to explain it herself. She smiled anxiously as Molly finally drew away, talking at a hundred miles an hour.

"Today's gone so slowly!" she cried, "I kept watching the clock and waiting but it just seemed to take forever. And the teachers kept making it worse, asking if I was looking forward to going home – I mean, what did they _think?"_ her eyes were sparkling and her mouth ran away with her, "I can't believe you're finally home! I mean, not_ home_-home, but out… so I can see you whenever I want to, and soon you'll be all better and we can be just like we used to be, a family again."

Alex gave a weak smile. She felt her heart lurching in her chest. She swallowed and tried to prepare herself.

"Yes, Molly," she began quietly, "we'll be a family again. But on that subject, there's something I…." she trailed off. The words weren't coming. They were so hard to say. Molly barely even noticed.

"Evan rented out the house but the tenants know they'll be given notice when the doctors think you'll be ready to move back," she told Alex, "and all your stuff is in storage so that it'll be waiting when you are ready."

Alex bit her lip and tried to look Molly in the eye, but it was so hard when the girl was beaming from ear to ear and Alex knew she was about to take that smile away from her.

"Molly," she began seriously, "I have to talk to you."

Molly seemed to hesitate at last. Finally she noticed the change in Alex's tone and the look on her face.

"Mum?" she asked, "you… are doing OK, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm doing fine," Alex began, "but there's something that I haven't told you."

Molly swallowed. For a moment she wondered if her mother was about to open up to her about all the things she'd half-heard, all the truths that Robin and Kim had been working hard at hiding.

"Yes?" she said quietly.

Alex looked down.

"When I woke up," she began quietly, "the doctors ran some tests. They needed to check everything was working OK…"

Molly turned visibly paler.

"Oh god," she whispered, "they found something else, didn't they?" Alex nodded slowly. "But you said you were OK. I mean, you said everything was fine –"

"I am, and it is," Alex said quickly, "but they found something… _unexpected,"_ she flinched and swallowed as the words stuck in her throat. "Molly, when they did some blood tests, they found that I was," she took a deep breath, "_am_ pregnant." She closed her eyes. She didn't dare look a Molly's reaction, "about thirteen weeks at the time. And I've been –"

"_Pregnant?"_

Molly's solitary word was said with disdain. Alex slowly opened her eyes to look at her daughter, the expression on her face full of disbelief and horror.

"Yes," she whispered.

Molly stared.

"But you were in a coma."

Alex looked down.

"I know."

"So how the hell is _that_ supposed to happen?"

Alex swallowed.

"Molly, I'm trying to explain," she said quietly, "the hospital have been… trying to find _out_ how it happened," she could feel her cheeks reddening from the lie, "they've been trying to find a DNA match…"

"How long have you known?" Molly asked, her voice tense.

Alex knew Molly Implosion was imminent.

"It… it was just after I woke up," she whispered.

Her daughter got to her feet and backed away.

"And you never told me?" she cried.

"Mols, listen," Alex stood up awkwardly and took a step closer but saw Molly's eyes focused on her stomach. Through the clothes that Kim had found for her it was clear that she was showing the results of more than the plate of Robin's leftovers she'd scoffed happily for lunch.

"Oh god, it's true, isn't it?" Molly's eyes were desperate and distraught, "you really are."

"I'm sorry," Alex whisperwed, shaking her head slightly.

"So when are they going to…" Molly swallowed, "you know?"

Alex stared at her blankly, her mouth slightly open in confusion.

"What?"

"You know…" Molly hesitated, "get rid of it?"

Alex's stomach turned at the question.

"Molly, _no," _she whispered.

Molly's dark expression spiralled ever downwards.

"You can't be thinking about keeping that – thing," she cried.

Alex knew that her eyes were filling up with tears. She tried to hold them back as she whispered.

"Mols, it doesn't mean I love you any the less, you know that –"

"Some pervert gets you pregnant and you want to _keep_ it?" cried Molly, "how can you even _think_ about that? Mum, you were raped –"

Alex flinched, the truth so close to escaping.

"The… the hospital don't know what happened…" she protested weakly.

"Well it didn't get there through genetic experimentation, did it?" cried Molly. She looked at the pale skin of her mother's face, the worry and the anguish reflected through her eyes. "How can you even think about it, mum? If you wanted another baby you never said that, you always said you only wanted _me."_

"Mols, this is _different_… this has already happened," Alex whispered, "it's… _unexpected_, but we have to make the best of the situation."

"The best of the _situation?"_ cried Molly. Her tone was desperate and tears started to roll down her hot, angry cheeks, "I waited _years_ for you to wake up, mum! I never lost hope, and then when you did… I couldn't wait to go back to how we used to be –"

"And we will –"

"But now you want to replace me –"

"_No!"_

"With some… _bastard_ baby –"

"_Molly!"_

"- that you're going to spend all your time looking after and I won't see you at all."

"That's _blatantly_ untrue."

But Molly wasn't prepared to listen to Alex.

"You're pregnant… someone did it to you while you were unconscious… you didn't even tell me and then you try to make me believe everything's going to go back to _normal?"_

"It _will_, Molly." Alex tried to convince her but the girl wasn't listening.

"I've had enough, mum," Molly cried as she moved towards the door, "I'm sick of all the lying and the covering up –" 

"What lying?"

"You _all_ do it!" Molly cried, "Evan lied about Layton all that time, Robin and Kim lie about what happened when you woke up before, and –" she hesitated as she pulled in a deep breath, trying to build her courage, "who's Gene?"

Alex's expression froze like a DVD on pause. She felt her insides churning as she whispered,

"Who?"

"He's all you asked for when you woke up before," Molly hissed, "and his name was all over Evan's web history. And I've heard them… Robin and Kim, they both mention him when they think I'm not listening."

"I don't know what you're –"

"I've seen your stupid tattoo, mum! I know that's what it stands for. Who is he?"

Alex and Molly stared at each other. One set of eyes were angry and desperate; the other sad and fearful. Molly waited and waited, silently begging her mother to open her mouth and talk to her, to speak the truth for once, to tell her exactly who the man was that had been such a mystery to her all those months. But Alex faltered and stammered and Molly began to realise that her hope was fruitless; she was not going to get any answers yet.

"Mols…"

Molly shook her head.

"I don't even know who you are any more," she whispered as she turned and fled from the room. Alex could hear her gasping sobs echo down the hallway as she ran and her own began to escape. She couldn't hold them in any more.

"Oh _god,"_ she cried, her heart racing and her limbs shaking. She heard Kim yelling after Molly, then the door slamming before footsteps came closer and she appeared in the doorway.

"Ma'am?" she whispered.

Alex looked at her with anguish.

"I _knew_ it," she cried, "I knew that's what she was going to do, Kim. I knew she wouldn't be able to handle it."

Kim wasn't very good with crying people. She could barely handle _Robin_ when he was upset, let alone the woman she still called _'ma'am'_ out of habit. Nervously she crossed the room and, hesitating for a moment, she awkwardly put her arms around her shoulders and hoped that she was offering some sort of comfort. She'd have felt more confident if she'd been talking Alex around from holding someone at gunpoint, but trying to soothe her devastation wasn't going to be easy for Kim.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry," she whispered as Alex let her tears fall against her shoulder, "I'm really sorry. It's… just give her time, it's a big shock…"

"She's never going to forgive me for this," Alex whispered between sobs.

"She will, she will," Kim promised her, "she's your daughter. She loves you more than anyone in the world. Give her time. She'll come around."

But Alex wasn't sure of that. Not in the slightest. The last thing tying her to the real world had just run out on her in a flood of tears. Her heart was breaking and she wasn't sure that she could ever mend it.


	29. Chapter 14, 1996: Fishy Business

**Chapter 13: 1996**

December was a little more than a week old already. It was a Friday, the end of the week and Simon was really looking forward to a nice, restful weekend ahead. It had been one hell of a difficult week – a barrage of copy-cat toaster crimes had been cluttering up his desk and _Watchdog _had been threatening to investigate. Recalls for mutant homicidal toasters were appearing in the local press and some idiot with a dictaphone kept asking for the official word on the Mutant Toasting Appliance Crisis, or _MTAC_ as it was becoming known in the local press.

"Anything you need me to do, guv?" Eddie asked, bringing Simon out of a horrified toaster-fearing trance as he looked over the latest set of crime scene photos. He looked up a little awkwardly.

"Uh, well, first of all, you can stop calling me guv," he said, turning a little red, "there's only one Guv around here, and I know it isn't me."

Eddie nodded.

"Fair enough," he said, "sorry. Sir."

"And secondly," he bit his lip, "you can make a quick trip to Latte Land."

Eddie looked crestfallen.

"Oh _what?_ I thought that task was over now I'm not working under DCI Hunt!" he cried, "I thought it was your turn today!"

"It was," Simon said a little guiltily, "I'm… learning to delegate better."

Eddie sighed.

"No problem," he said, "what do you want?"

Simon gave Eddie the orders and watched him leave before he glanced at the pile of toaster photos on the desk and shuddered.

"Well I know what I _won't_ be having with my coffee," he mumbled, "anything toasted. Not for a long while."

He looked up as heavy footsteps approached and Gene appeared in the doorway.

"Me tongue's wondering if it's going to get any kind of liquid nourishment before it perishes like a bloody slug in the desert," he said.

Simon cringed at the thought.

"Eddie should be back soon," he said. He saw Gene looking slightly confused. "I sent him on the latte run," he said, a little guiltily, but Gene looked impressed.

"You're catching on, Simon," he said.

Simon saw him turn to leave but called him back quickly.

"Gene, wait," he said. Gene stalled at the door, looking a little annoyed.

"If you've got more pictures of toasters to show me then can you wait until I've got a clean change of underwear and a bucket?" he blanched. He'd seen enough of the things earlier in the week.

"No, no toasters," Simon assured him, "I just… I needed to know about Christmas."

Gene stared at him. Then he sighed, walked into the office and took a seat opposite Simon.

"No, Simon," he began, "there really isn't a Santa Claus. It was yer father in a suit."

Simon rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Gene," he began, "I need to know what you're planning to do this year."

Gene frowned

"Get pissed? He suggested.

"I mean, where are you spending it?" Simon asked, adding quickly, "because if you want somewhere to be… if you want some company… I don't mind you staying on. I mean, no pressure," he held up his hands awkwardly, "not like I'm lonely or anything."

Gene looked away for a moment. He couldn't help thinking about the waifs and strays on his doorstep the year before.

"No," he said, surprisingly quietly for Gene, "I know you're not. But," he paused, "it would be rude to walk out on yer at this time of year. Leave you without me rent. You need to pay for all those bottles of scotch you're going to give me somehow." He cleared his throat. "Might stay on."

Simon nodded, trying not to show relief in his eyes.

"Good," he said quietly, "I mean, I'm not making a big deal of it or anything… I don't think I can cook a turkey..."

Gene frowned.

"You can't have Christmas without a bloody turkey," he said.

"I've never cooked one before," Simon protested.

"You invite me round for Christmas and I don't get a bloody fat bird?"

"You can always go and spend the festive season with the woman from the canteen."

"Oh _ha bloody ha,_ Shoebury, did you hear that ripping noise?" he cupped his ear for effect, "that was me sides splitting."

Simon sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Alright, fine," he said, "I wish I'd never asked you to stay now."

"Taking back me invite already?"

"No!" Simon protested, "I just don't want to argue about this, that's all. If a turkey's that important to you, we'll…" he shrugged, "I don't know. I'll buy some turkey slices or something."

"That's not very festive.

"Well it's the best you're going to get out of me," Simon told him firmly.

"Alright, _I'll_ cook the bloody turkey.

Simon's mouth dropped open.

_"You?"_

Gene scowled.

"What?"

"You can't cook a turkey!" he cried, "you only just scrape by with bacon and eggs!"

"I cook the best bloody fry up in Fenchurch and anyone will tell you the same," Gene told him.

"Even so," Simon shuddered, "the thought of you… and a turkey…" his insides lurched, "I haven't forgotten _Come Dine With Me."_ He gave a strained hiccup. "Neither has my stomach. And that was a year ago."

"One dodgy meal and I'm marked for life!" Gene protested.

"Yeah, and so's my toilet bowl!" cried Simon, "I can't imagine what you'll do with a turkey." He gulped, "probably stuff it with fishy biscuits."

Gene narrowed his eyes.

"This a challenge, is it Simon?"

Simon hesitated. It hadn't been but –

"Yeah," he said, "alright. It's a challenge." He drew in his breath. "Cook me a meal this weekend and prove your worth, then the turkey's all yours."

Gene never could turn down a challenge.

"You're bloody on," he said, holding out his hand which Simon shook to seal the deal, "No – wait…" Gene scowled. Somehow Simon had got him so riled up that he'd forgotten two little matters – one, that he didn't actually know how to cook; and two, that he didn't want to spend his whole bloody Christmas in the kitchen.

He couldn't believe it. How had he gotten himself into this? Suddenly he wasn't going to have to cook just one meal; he was going to have to cook _twice._ There was only one thing for it – he was going to have to cook something really, _really _badly and Simon would never let him near the kitchen again. That was it – a plan in place. All he needed were some biscuits, a tin of tuna and some of those dolphin-nosed potatoes and his plan would be well under way.

~xXx~

Keats had been stewing over the next step for a while. He had failed to find a suitable mole to do his dirty work – even approaching Vickery had backfired in the most terrible way when the man stared blubbering all over him and Keats had to rush off in a hurry – his coat was dry-clean only. So it was down to him, which was fine, except that knowing security were on the lookout he had to find an alternative way to approach the plan.

He was busy putting together a special Christmas present for Simon, one certain to spoil his festive season, and probably every festive season from there on in. He liked the Christmas motif, even though it meant waiting a little longer for the truth to finally hit the man, the idea of his Christmas bringing a bombshell was so very soap opera, he couldn't resist it.

In the meanwhile he was busying himself with nuisance telephone calls. He hadn't gotten as far as heavy breathing yet, but he was sure he would have to try that one day.

He lifted the phone on his desk and dialled Simon's office number swiftly. He knew it off by heart now.

"_Hi tech crimes department?"_

"Simon," Keats smiled as he spoke, "festive greetings to you and yours!"

Usually Simon would hang up on him before the end of his first sentence but on this occasion he seemed more inclined to allow Keats free rein for a little troublemaking.

"What do you want, Keats?" he sighed.

"Just making sure you're all ready for Christmas," Keats said amiably.

"If you're angling for an invite you're out of luck," Simon said angrily, "the chimney's reserved for Santa, not Satan. You must have mixed your letters up."

"Got everything you need?" Keats asked him, "Tree? Turkey? Family drama? Nice dose of festive depression?"

"No, actually," Simon's voice grew angrier, "I haven't got something to put on the top of the tree, How about I just shove the tree up your arse and be done with it?"

Keats laughed to himself as the line went dead and he hung up the phone.

"I wouldn't talk about tree toppers if I were you, Simon," he sighed as he leaned back, "by the time I've brought your world crashing down you'll be seeing plenty of stars."

~xXx~

Gene arrived back after an impromptu shopping trip with bags of food. Ideally he would have taken them straight to Simon's but he'd lost his set of keys so they'd just have to wait in his office for a little while.

"Stay there and don't touch anything," he told them as he propped them against the wall. There was a cold latte on his desk from where Eddie had returned from the latte run while Gene was out. _Bollocks._ He'd have to find someone to go and pick him up a replacement. He stepped back out of his office and looked around CID, watching for a suitable victim, when suddenly something caught his eye.

Or rather, the _lack_ of something caught his eye.

~xXx~

Simon was busy sorting the crime scene photos into piles; Bread-related, Limb-related and Appliance related, when a blur of a body went by outside the door. He looked up in surprise, fully expecting it to be someone screaming, _"Where am I? Where's my office? Who are you people?" _– the blur seemed to have that demeanour.

However, a few moments later it came rushing back in the other direction, skidded to a halt in the doorway and cried,

"_Where's the bloody thing gone?"_

"Gene?" Simon frowned.

"The desk," Gene panted, completely out of breath, more through the shock than the running.

"What desk?"

"_Alex's_ desk," Gene growled, sounding a little angry now, "It's bloody disappeared."

"Her _desk?"_ Simon frowned, "I thought her office had been turned into storage space…"

"No, Shoe-boy, her _old_ bloody desk!" cried Gene, "he one she used when she was my DI. The one she left the lipstick and tights in."

"Not the bloody lipstick and tights again," Simon cried.

"The desk has gone," Gene said again.

Simon wasn't sure what was going on.

"Gene… desks don't disappear," he began, trying to work out what to tell him.

"_This_ one has."

"Someone will have borrowed it for some reason," Simon told him patently.

"No one touches that desk, no one so much as breathes on it without my permission."

Simon hesitated. Gene had always seemed terribly possessive of that desk. He rarely let anyone use it for any reason. He had a vague memory of Susannah grumbling that Gene had taken a long time to let her use it even when she became his DI.

"Someone must have moved it to another office," Simon began, getting to his feet, "Look, you go back to CID, ask Terry and the others if they know where it is. I'll ask the caretakers if they've been moving furniture. Alright?"

"Desks don't disappear," was all that Gene could mumble. His heart was racing. That desk felt like his last link to Alex. It was the one part of her that remained in the office. He thought of her every time he passed it by – but now the bloody desk had passed him by.

He felt as though he was going crazy. A big desk couldn't just have vanished into thin air, especially not in the time it took to buy a batch of tuna and biscuits – but as time went by and more people denied any knowledge of its whereabouts it seemed increasingly likely that the damn thing had done a runner by itself.

Finally Simon and Gene, after an hour each of trekking around the station to uncover its location, came to a halt in the spot where the desk once stood Simon admitted,

"I think you were right the first time, Gene. The desk has vanished."

"How in the name if all that's senseless does a bloody desk make its escape?" Gene demanded.

Simon bit his lip and shook his head.

"It wasn't pregnant, was it…?" was all he could suggest, thinking of Alex's disappearance.

When he'd finished straightening up his spine from his latest clash with a filing cabinet he looked at Gene's dark expression. The desk's disappearance was an absolute mystery and something that neither of them could come close to explaining. But more worrying than that was the discovery of a sole item on the spot where the desk once stood, lying face-down on the ground. They hadn't even noticed it at first until Simon tripped over it and crashed headlong into a freestanding fan.

When he'd recovered from both his slight concussion and severe embarrassment he picked it up and examined it. It was a wooden name block for a desk, nothing particularly out of the ordinary about that. But as he turned it over he felt as though his heart dropped right into his stomach.

_D.I. Kim Stringer,_ it said.


	30. Chapter 15, 2011: Flipchart Action

_**A/N: Thank you so, so much for the reviews so far, I'm really sorry I'm behind on replies, I'm having a rubbish spell of health at the moment and haven't been able to get online as much as usual but I really appreciate every one and love hearing your thoughts – I hope you continue to enjoy the journey as much as I'm enjoying it from my side :) -x-**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 15: 2011**

Alex had known Molly wasn't going to take the news well. In fact, she had expected the very worst, and yet it didn't make it any easier when it happened. Kim flagged Robin down in the car park to warn him about various shades of excrement meeting the rotating wind-producing appliance before he arrived home that night and the two of them did their best to help Alex to cool down after the upsetting exchange that had occurred between her and Molly but the pain ran so deep that their words offered little comfort.

"I just didn't know what to do or to say," Kim's hissed and hushed conversation with Robin out of earshot was almost as emotional, "I'm no good with this stuff, Rob. I can't _do_ comforting. I never have."

"You did fine," Robin promised her, "there's nothing anyone could say that would help Alex feel better right now, not unless Molly arrived and made her peace."

"I tried to call her at her foster mother's," Kim told him, "I wanted to try to get her to think about things from the other point of view but her foster mother wouldn't let me talk to her."

"She's only heard Molly's side of the story," Robin reminded her, "Molly's a teenager who's been through a really hard time. She's going to take a while to cool off. It would be good for both her and Alex to have a little space before they talk again."

"That's if Molly ever _does_ talk to her again," Kim said quietly.

"She will," Robin said, as confidently as he could, "of course she will."

A very awkward and difficult evening passed, with Alex sinking into depression, Kim anxious about her state of mind and Robin fretting over the fact that he _really_ wanted to put his spaghetti and meatballs in the bin and cook up some beans instead. For the next few days they allowed Alex time to absorb what had happened without pushing her. She tried several times to contact Molly but she wasn't ready to talk to Alex yet. Her health suffered, she lost sleep and stopped eating properly but as the weekend arrived she began to slowly pull herself together. Molly's behaviour had knocked her terribly but she knew that she had to get herself strong. The dreams of Gene needing peace plagued her through every snatched moment of sleep and she knew she had to be as tough as possible for the task ahead if she was going to find a way to lay him to rest.

When Saturday morning arrived Alex woke up after a fairly decent night's sleep and felt somewhat better. The memories of her confrontation with Molly were still foremost on her mind but she had at least stopped blaming herself and that was a big step. What was happening was out of her control. She'd never asked for any of this and the situation she'd found herself in was so strange that no one had ever experienced it before. There was no precedent, and no matter what Molly might say or think Alex still knew that her love for her daughter had never changed and never would – and in time she hoped that Molly would understand that too.

She dressed quickly and took her chair to the flip chart again. She did this most mornings to write down whatever her dreams had brought to her the night before, but this time she had a different list to make. Flipping the chart to a fresh page she wrote;

'_Things to do:'_

She always felt better with a 'to do' list when she seemed to be wading through a veritable soup of complicated possibilities. There was so much for her to work out and she needed to start somewhere. First things first; she needed to get her plan to help lay Gene to rest off the ground so she wrote: '_1. Gene –_ ' then started to make a sub list.

'_a) Tell R&K about dreams_

_b) Search online – body – Farringfield Green_

_c) Any surviving family?_

_d) See post-mortem report – how did they attempt to identify him?_

_e) Manchester'_

The last item on the list was the big one, and the one Alex was most worried about. She knew she was going to have to head North at some point – that was very clear. But what worried her was what she was going to find when she got there, what she would have to do to help Gene to be at peace and how the hell she was going to work those things out. She hoped Kim and Robin would be able to help her with that.

She also knew she was going to have to be a darned sight stronger and fitter to make that journey. She was already pushing her limits with things like illicit trips to the convenience store when Kim and Robin's backs were turned but it was her way of testing herself and seeing how strong she was. While she still had a fair way to go she was gaining strength all the time and the more strength she gained the closer she came to setting foot on her journey to Manchester and to helping Gene to find peace.

She began to fill out the rest of her list; the non-Gene portions.

'_2. Explain to Molly_

_3. Visit Evan_

_4. Find out why there are so many empty baked bean tins in the recycling box_

_5. See Kim's desk'_

All of those points worried her. They were all scary in their own ways. Point 2 had the most riding on it. She didn't even know what she was going to say to Molly, but she couldn't leave things the way they were. First and foremost she had to open up communication with her again, then she would have to try, in some way or form, to explain the impossible to the girl. She didn't know how much to say, or how much Molly really knew. she would have to find out exactly what Molly had picked up so that she would have some idea how many gaps to fill in without telling her too much.

She knew that point three was controversial, everyone had warned her away from visiting Evan in prison but she felt that she had to. At the very least, the thought of Keats in Layton's body invading his property and terrifying him so much made her feel a little guilty – Keats would never have done that if it wasn't for his connection with her, she was certain. But she also needed to talk about that night, up on the roof, with Layton and Nailer's goons She needed to hear Evan's side of things for the first time.

Point four, quite frankly, terrified her most of all. She had almost freaked out when she opened the recycling box to drop in a can and an explosion of bean tins jumped out at her. Did Robin have some kind of weird sponsorship deal going with them? It remained to be seen.

Leaving point five; the weird one. She closed her eyes and sighed as she thought about it. Kim's words about Alex's old desk arriving in her office had left her feeling unnerved. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that a desk could travel through time and life. It was hard enough to think that a baby growing inside of her could do the impossible but inanimate _objects?_ She had to see if for herself.

She replaced the lid on her pen and leaned back. Somehow just having the list in front of her made her feel better, more together. Today she was going to stop fretting about things that were out of her control and start focusing on the ones she could instead.

~xXx~

Kim had barely stepped out of the bathroom when a whirlwind known as Robin pushed past her and slammed the door behind him. Immediately she felt her stomach tighten with worry.

"Rob, this is ridiculous," she began but the noise of him throwing up quite horribly cut her off in her prime. "…never mind," she said with a sigh. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "We'll talk about this when you come out," she said a little nervously and made her way to the kitchen table.

She must have been sitting there for ten minutes at least before Robin ventured out of the bathroom, somehow managing to looking both green and deathly pale at the same time. She saw him rubbing his stomach. It almost looked a little… no, she shook her head to get rid of those ridiculous thoughts again. _Men can't get pregnant_, she reminded herself yet again. She wasn't sure which of them she'd managed to screw up more, herself or Robin.

"Robin," she began quietly as he sat down, "look, I was wrong and stupid to accuse you of having a hysterical pregnancy but you're not well. I think you should see a doctor."

"No, no, you're right," said Robin, "I read all that stuff you printed. It's just like you said. I need to work through my… my _psychological need to be pregnant _and then I'll be fine."

Kim sighed and took his hands.

"You do not have a psychological need to be pregnant, you are a man." She looked at him seriously, "but maybe you've got IBS or something that a doctor needs to diagnose. The sickness and the bloating and everything…"

"Well what about the swollen ankles? And the cravings and the sore nipples and the…. Um…" Robin frowned, "The, um…"

"Memory loss?"

Robin snapped his fingers.

"Yes! That's it."

Kim shook her head.

"OK, maybe there's more than one thing going on, but I'm really worried about you now. So please, _please_ see a doctor?"

Robin sighed

"OK," he said quietly, "I will. When I get the time." He got up slowly. "But right now, I need to see if my new knitting magazine has arrived."

"OK." Kim nodded. She paused, then her head spun around 90 degrees as he walked away. "Your bloody _what?"_

~xXx~

Alex felt like she was conducting a meeting as she called Kim and Robin into her room that morning.

"I'm sorry for doing this so officially," she began, not actually sorry at all – it made her feel a little closer to home – "but I've been making notes all week and I'd like to talk them through with you"

Kim and Robin glanced at one another, unsure what was going to come of Alex's thoughts.

"What's this about?" Robin asked.

"After our brainstorm on Monday night I've been adding more thoughts," Alex explained, "Now, first of all – the dreams." She turned to a clean page and wrote '_Dreams'_ in the middle, "I've been having them every night."

Kim smirked to herself a little as she watched Alex scribbling across the large expanse of paper. It was just like being right back there in the nineties. She was relieved and pleased to see how much easier Alex's movements were and how much her strength had improved.

"What happens in them?" she asked, "are they all the same, like the one you told us about, or are they all a little different?"

"Good question," Alex pointed the end of her pen at Kim, "they follow almost the same pattern but sometimes I gain more details than others. Here's what I know so far –"

As she was about to write the first point, Robin's hand shot up in the air.

"Can I go to the toilet?" he asked rather urgently, crossing his legs and fidgeting on his seat.

Alex looked at him with disdain.

"This isn't primary school," she said.

Kim bit her lip nervously. She supposed that her poorly-thought out allegations of hysterical pregnancy had now convinced Robin that his bladder needed urgent attention every five minutes.

"Uh, I think you'd better let him go," she said a little awkwardly.

Alex threw her hands in the air.

"Fine," she said, "you may go to the toilet, Robin."

"Thanks," Robin said quickly, jumping to his feet and scuttling out of the room.

Alex's confused eyes turned to Kim.

"Uh," she cleared her throat, "too much coffee this morning."

Alex fidgeted a little on the spot as she waited for Robin to come back.

"_I_ have to go now, thanks a lot," she muttered as he finally returned, blushing.

"Sorry," he mumbled as Alex went to the bathroom. Kim glanced at him and said anxiously,

"Rob, are you OK?"

Robin looked away.

"Fine," he muttered.

"Maybe you should, uh," she cleared her throat, "maybe you should talk to Alex. About what you're… going through."

Robin looked at her in alarm.

"This is embarrassing enough without _everyone_ knowing!" he hissed.

"But if I've really screwed your head up and made you think you're pregnant…"

"I don't actually think I'm _pregnant!"_ Robin hissed urgently, his cheeks reddening by the moment.

"…Then maybe Alex can help," Kim continued, "She's a psychologist." She paused. "And a pregnant one." She tried so hard not to snicker but a tiny one escaped as she said, "maybe she can give you some… you know… bladder control tips…"

"Oh, _ha ha,"_ Robin hissed, "I'd like to see how _you'd_ cope if you were a pregnant man!"

"_You're not pregnant!"_ hissed Kim, "and since I'm a woman…"

"If you were a woman with an erection then!" Robin cried, trying to make the point at an inappropriate moment as Alex returned.

None of them were quite sure who was more mortified by that moment. Kim did a lot of coughing, Robin suddenly found something very interesting on the back of his hand and Alex talked very loudly about how her pen was running out. Eventually they had all calmed down sufficiently for Alex to continue her meeting.

"Right," she began, "if I can get started…" she eyed them crossly like a couple of unruly school children, "that's if Kim's not having any more erection problems?"

She watched Kim's face glowing like a beacon.

"Sorry, Ma'am," she said in embarrassment, "Robin was only trying to make a point."

"Sounded like _you_ were the one making a 'point'," Alex couldn't help but comment as she turned to the board. She started to write. "I think I know why I'm back here," she said, feeling herself shake a little as she finally shared the thoughts she'd been building in her mind, "I don't think Gene's body was ever identified, or if it was then there is something else stopping him from being at peace. Perhaps he had no surviving family members or he's in an unmarked grave. Whether I need to make sure he's finally identified or whether all I need to do is lay flowers over his grave, I don't know, but something's guiding me –" she drew an arrow going upwards, "to Manchester."

Kim looked a little wary.

"That's a long way to go when you're still weak, ma'am," she said.

Alex nodded slowly. Usually she would have ignored that comment but she knew it wasn't her own health at stake but her baby's too. She was willing to take things easier than she otherwise would.

"I know," she said quietly, "I'm not about to board the next train. And besides, there are facts we need to establish first. But I need you both to be aware that ultimately, I feel certain that's where we need to go."

The others watched as she started to make a list.

"So what can we do to help?" Robin asked.

"I'm glad you asked that question," Alex sighed. She carried on writing, then stepped back to reveal her list. "First things first, I'm going to need your help with gaining access to files. I have no idea whether my credentials are still current. I probably won't be able to access the computer systems. I need a copy of the post mortem report and any information available on Gene's identity – whether they were able to identify him, methods they used, whether they were able to trace any family and where his body was laid to rest."

"That's no problem," Robin nodded, "We'll be right on that for you."

"I also need any information about the discovery of his body," Alex continued, "who found it, whether any investigation has been held into the man who shot him – anything connected to it."

"We'll get hold of as much information as we can," Kim promised.

Alex sat down as she thought about the non-Gene related items on her list from that morning.

"I need your help with some other things too," she said, "there are some other matters I have to take care of before I head North." She swallowed a little anxiously. "Molly, for one." She saw a sympathetic look on their faces, "I need to smooth things over with her. I can't bear the way she reacted and I know that it was partly my fault. I should have told her sooner, but I didn't know how." She paused, "And… and there are things she knows. And things she knows I'm keeping from her." She dropped her voice a little. "Has she ever spoken to you both… asked you… about Gene?"

The look on their faces told her everything she needed to know.

"She has been pushing the subject," Robin said quietly.

"You asked for him all the time when you woke up before and Molly knew something wasn't right," Kim added.

"We haven't told her anything," Robin was quick to say, "but she's heard things… it was unavoidable sometimes… like on the barge. Keats said things…"

Alex closed her eyes and let out her breath.

"Alright," she whispered, "alright. I think, in that case, we're a little bit beyond damage limitation." she felt her heart grow heavy as she said, "I'm going to have to at least try to explain things to her, somehow."

Kim and Robin looked at each other nervously.

"Are… are you sure, Ma'am?" Kim asked, "I mean, talking about that world… are you… _allowed to?"_

Alex sighed.

"I don't think there are any hard and fast rules," she said, "as far as I know it's not like Fight Club. It's the getting people to understand that is the difficult part."

Robin cleared his throat.

"Simon told me," he said quietly, "after he went for the first time. And you're right… it's the getting someone to believe it that's so hard. I didn't really believe it was real until Keats showed up and life went crazy."

"But Molly already knows _something_ has happened," Alex said quietly, "all I can do is be honest with her. Then, how much she believes…" she sighed, "that's up to her." She shook her head. "And besides, all of this is academic if she carries on refusing to talk to me." She paused for a moment, the sadness of Molly's reaction forcing its way back into her mind. She needed to move onto the next subject before she felt too overwhelmed by that. "The next thing I need to do," she took a deep breath, "I need to see Evan."

"Evan?" Robin repeated, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Whatever he's done," Alex began quietly, "he's still my godfather and he spent most of his life bringing me up. I need to clear the air with him. It's not just Gene who needs to find peace on this plain to move on."

Robin still worried about whether seeing Evan would be too stressful for her but he could see her point of view.

"When you're stronger, we'll take you," he said quietly.

"Thank you," Alex felt relieved that she hadn't needed to put up more of a fight. "Then the next thing I had on my list…" she paused. "Uh… are you both aware that there is a small army of baked bean tins in your recycling box?"

She noticed Robin turning an attractive postbox shade of red while Kim looked a little awkward and quickly tried to cover up for Robin's bizarre behaviour.

"Uh… it was a charity thing," she lied, "bath of baked beans. Got to do our bit for the environment."

Alex looked at them dubiously, especially since she was fairly sure she'd just heard Robin let one go, but decided to leave the baked beans for now.

"Yes, _well,"_ she cleared her throat, "moving on… there was one other thing I wanted to ask. A favour." she looked at Kim, her expression growing serious. "Your desk."

Kim felt a shudder travel down her spine. Ever since she'd been given the desk she'd felt strange about it.

"Yes?" she said quietly.

Alex bit her lip.

"I'd like to see it," she whispered.

Kim wasn't sure what to say or how to respond. Her mouth became very dry as she whispered,

"Are you sure?"

Alex nodded.

"I need to, Kim," she said quietly, "I need to see if it's the same one. I need to know if it was my desk, because the implications of that…" she laid her hand against her forehead as she began to feel a little overwhelmed.

"Ma'am, I'll gladly take you to see it," Kim said quietly, "but make sure you're really ready, OK? The damn thing freaks _me_ out enough and I haven't been through any of what you have."

Alex felt a little concerned as she saw Kim give a visible shudder.

"What's the matter?" she asked quietly.

Kim felt a little silly.

"I'm just being stupid," she said quietly.

"No, go on," Robin said, a little worried. Usually it took a lot to freak Kim out. Even when _Wham_ came on unexpectedly she was the one who kept her cool long enough to change the radio station.

Kim sighed.

"I know this sounds dumb, but it's like things just… _happen_ around it," she said."

"What do you mean?"

"I've only had the bloody thing for a week and things keep appearing and disappearing," Kim explained, "or moving around. Bloody thing might as well be haunted. I opened the drawer the other day and there was a random lipstick and a pair of tights in there. When was the last time you saw me wear tights, Rob?" she paused, "the bank robber role-play doesn't count."

Alex shuddered and decided not to ask.

"Maybe one of your team is playing a joke?" she suggested.

"That bunch of miserable sods?" Kim shook her head, "they're nice enough but they're not a laugh a minute. They're not really the prankster type. It's not like, you know." She smiled a little, "_back in the day."_

Alex returned her smile, a little unnerved by what Kim had said.

"Look, maybe they've just been borrowing things and putting them back in the wrong places?" she suggested.

Kim looked down. Somehow she seemed sad now.

"But the thing that _really_ pissed me off," she began, "is my name block disappeared," she glanced at Robin, "the one you bought me?" she looked thoroughly miserable about it. "It just vanished. Who'd want to take that? Not like there are people lining up to be _DI Kim Stringer."_

Robin looked somewhat mortified. He'd been so proud of Kim for getting her promotion and the gesture of buying the name block before she'd even been given the job had proven to her how much faith he had in her. He knew how much it meant to Kim and that meant that it was special to him too.

"Sorry, Kim," he said quietly, "I don't know what to say. I… I can order another one for you –"

Kim shook her head slowly.

"A replacement isn't the same," she said quietly, "the original meant so much."

Alex frowned a little, unsure quite why they both seemed to be so attached to one name block. This seemed like a stupidly emotional overreaction from the pair of them.

"Uh," she began, "I'm sure it will turn up." Her words didn't seem to have much effect on either Kim nor Robin who both looked like someone had just told them their favourite pet had died, "uh… maybe that's enough lists and brainstorming for one morning," she put the lid back on her pen, "we can talk about the desk some other time."

Robin seemed to sit up a little straighter in his seat all of a sudden and his eyes bolted. He took a deep breath and slammed his hand over his mouth.

"Rob?" was as much as Kim was able to ask before he fled the room and made a crazy dash to the bathroom. _"Shit,"_ she sighed, closing her eyes.

Alex watched him worriedly as he disappeared.

"Kim, is everything alright with him today?" she asked.

Kim shook her head slowly.

"No, Ma'am, no… it's not," she sighed. She put her head in her hands for several moments before she finally looked back up at her and said, "I think I've broken Robin."

Alex looked alarmed.

"Broken… in what way?" she asked, adding quickly, "please tell me this isn't connected to the kind of activity I witnessed in my hospital room…"

"No," said Kim, "I mean, not really…" she paused, "not unless I really _have_ managed to impregnate him."

Alex's expression was priceless. She had never been this confused in her life, and that included waking up in 1981.

"Please can you explain that sentence?" she asked.

Kim bit her lip a little guiltily.

"Oh, it's such a long story," she sighed awkwardly. As horrible retching sounds came from the bathroom, Alex told her,

"Well it doesn't sound like Robin's going to be back for a while."

Kim looked down and shook her head slowly.

"I don't know where to begin really," she said, "Rob's not been himself the last couple of weeks. He's been going for a piss four times a night. He's been throwing up in the mornings. He won't eat anything but beans, he's been bloated; honestly, the most horrendous sounds have been coming out of his guts."

"If those baked bean tins are anything to go by I'm not surprised," Alex wrinkled up her nose. She paused, "It sounds like he needs to see a doctor. He may have some undiagnosed digestion issue."

"Well, yes, that's what any sensible person would tell him," Kim said. She gave a deep sigh. "Unfortunately stupid people like me go and look up his symptoms on the internet and tell him that he's having a hysterical pregnancy."

Suddenly Kim's question from earlier in the week made a lot more sense.

"_Ohh…"_ Alex said quietly, "Oh, I _see."_

Kim rubbed her forehead.

"He's complained of other stuff too. Sore nipples and swollen ankles. And he's been so bloody over-emotional. He's turned into a pregnant woman."

"But Kim, hysterical pregnancy can't occur in men –"

"I know that _now!"_ cried Kim, "but it's too late… the damage has been done." she slapped her forehead, "I was a total idiot, I gave him these printouts about it and I suppose he read them and now he's convinced himself he's having a hysterical pregnancy. He pays too much attention to me when I'm talking bollocks." She gave Alex a dirty look as she let a tiny giggle escape. "_It's not funny!_ How would you feel if Gene started going around patting his belly and asking you for ankle rubs?"

Alex fought the smile that was trying to break out. She knew this was deadly serious to Kim but the whole idea of it was just so ridiculous.

"Kim, Robin's not stupid," she said, "he'll realise soon enough that he's letting his imagination run riot."

Kim hung her head.

"There's other stuff though," she said quietly.

"What? Oh _god_, he hasn't taken a test, has he?"

Kim shook her head.

"I really did think it could be hysterical pregnancy at first, Ma'am, because we've been through some stuff." She drew in her breath and felt terribly sick from the grief as she said quietly, "I've had two miscarriages since we've been together."

Alex's expression of vague amusement changed completely. Her face fell and her chest deflated as she breathed out and whispered;

"Oh _no,_ Kim." she looked at her sadly, "I'm so sorry. I didn't have any idea."

"We kept it to ourselves," Kim said quietly, "just telling people we were together was bad enough." She worked hard at not letting her eyes fill with tears. "The first time was a total shock. It wasn't planned, believe me… that saying about one time being all it takes? It's very true." She swallowed, "and that was hard _enough_ on us both. But the second time –" she couldn't meet Alex's stare any longer, "I've never seen Robin look that happy. We had two wonderful days of just enjoying the news and starting to plan – and then –" she finally looked back at her, "it was all over."

Alex's voice was quiet and low.

"Kim I'm sorry," she whispered, "I can't even begin to imagine."

"It's been hard on both of us, but Rob… he can be really sensitive. I mean, _really_ sensitive," Kim closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. "He took it really badly and I don't think he's gotten over it. I mean, you never really _do_, but…" she bit her lip. "So when he started coming out with all these symptoms I thought maybe it was his way of… of processing it. So I gave him the stupid crappy printouts and now he thinks he's going crazy and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Alex sighed. Suddenly Kim seemed like that young girl who awoke in Gene's world in a hot warehouse at an illegal rave all over again. Lost and scared.

"Kim," she said quietly, "all you can do is be there for him while he works through whatever this is. Maybe he is going through some kind of…" she shook her head, "I don't know… not hysterical pregnancy exactly but… maybe with me being here, perhaps my own pregnancy is reminding him what you two were never able to have."

Kim looked down and nodded slowly.

"We've been trying," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "but nothing's happened yet. "

"Give it time," Alex told her, "and give Robin time too. Be there for each other and you'll both get through this. Robin will be fine with you there for him. Seeing you together, I can see how much you mean to one another," she caught Kim's eye and chanced a little smile. "I don't think I've ever seen two people so much in love."

Those words really struck Kim in the heart. After all she and Robin had been through to forge a relationship and the continuing battles they faced those words really meant something special. For the first time since Robin had made his mad dash to the bathroom she gave a smile. Thinking about the way she'd see Alex and Gene's relationship evolve wile she'd been in the other world she said,

"_I_ have."

The moment Kim's words struck her ears and Alex realised what she meant it brought her emotions right to the surface. She had spent the whole week focusing on ways to find her way home to take her mind away from his much she missed Gene. Now that terrible sadness came right to the fore and a river of tears began to flow, much to Kim's horror. She jumped up and panicked. _Oh god no, tears_ – she couldn't deal with tears... she was really, _really_ bad at this… She really didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry!" she said quickly, "I didn't mean to upset you!" she bit her lip and tried to pat her on the back and rub her shoulder but neither seemed to help. _Oh crap, now what?_ "Ma'am, don't cry – we'll get you home…" But Alex's tears kept on falling. It was as though the plug had been pulled on the basin of emotions she'd been trying to hold at bay and now there was nothing stopping the tears from falling. "_Shit,"_ cursed Kim. She turned to the door. "Rob?" Her voice rose in a panic, _"ROBIN!"_

A moment later a slightly green Robin appeared in the doorway.

"What? What? What's happened?" he cried.

Kim slapped her forehead.

"Now I broke Alex!" she wailed.

"What? _How?_ What happened?"

"There's tears and stuff," she jabbered, "and I'm just making it worse… you're better at this than me. Good luck, bye-bye!"

She slapped him on the back, made a speedy exit and hid in the bedroom for a while, cringing hard. In one day she'd managed to break both Robin _and_ Alex. As far as Saturdays went, this wasn't shaping up to be a classic.


	31. Chapter 15, 1996: Challenge Accepted

**Chapter 15: 1996**

At first Simon hadn't been sure whether he should show Gene what he had discovered or not. Gene was already irate about the missing desk and some nonsensical piece of bric-a-brac that seemed to have given Kim a promotion months after she left the world wouldn't be a welcome addition to the day. So he'd taken it away unseen and spent much of the evening staring at it. Even Gene had been concerned about the amount of time Simon was spending shut in his bedroom that night and threatened to break the door down if Simon didn't tell him what was wrong, but Simon had seen to that threat with the lie that he was having a Red Dwarf marathon and Gene decided to leave well enough alone.

He tried 'sleeping on it' but the next morning, after managing to get almost _no_ sleep, he decided to tell Gene what he'd found. It was starting to drive him crazy.

It was a Saturday and neither were at work. Gene was already in the kitchen drinking a mug of coffee while reading the front page of the local newspaper.

_Toasters Claim Six More Victims,_ the headline screamed, _"Crumbs," Says eye-Witness._

"Morning," Gene mumbled, enthralled by the story.

Simon played with the name block behind his back and sat opposite him

"Morning," he said quietly.

"Kettle's still hot enough if you want one," Gene told him.

Simon wasn't in the mood for a beverage Or for going near kitchen appliances.

"Gene," he began quietly, "You know Kim?"

Gene glanced up.

"Strange thing full of metal and ink?" Gene asked, "yeah, vaguely remember," he rolled his eyes, "what's the matter, Shoebury."

Simon hesitated.

"Were you going to give her a promotion?" he asked.

Gene frowned.

"Yeah, I always promote me team eight months after they leave," he said.

"Seriously, were you going to make her a detective inspector?"

Gene put down his paper, folded his arms and stared at Simon.

"You've found yet little blue and white pills again, haven't you?" he asked.

Simon closed his eyes and sighed.

"Just answer the question."

"No, I wasn't," said Gene, "why?"

Simon hesitated.

"I… found something," he said quietly.

Gene drew back in horror.

"Then go and see the doc, don't show _me!"_ he cried.

"No!" cried Simon, "Ewww, Gene, no…." he shook his head, "I meant in the office." He paused. "Where the desk was."

Gene's expression changed. He stared at Simon with an anxious look in his eyes.

"Go on," he prompted.

Simon took a deep breath and pulled the name block out from behind his back. He handed it to Gene and watched his face carefully as he looked it over. For a long time Gene said nothing. He stared at the engraving on the metal as though it could explain its presence to him. Finally he looked at Simon.

"Stringer was a DS, not a DI," he said. He spoke so matter-of-factly that it sounded like that one sentence was supposed to make the thing disappear into thin air, which of course it didn't. He carried on staring at it for some time then looked at Simon again. "Tell me what I'm supposed to be looking at."

"Gene, if I knew that do you think I'd be looking like _this_?" Simon pointed to his own expression which was admittedly harrowed.

Gene looked from the block to Simon and back again.

"Where did you get this?" he asked eventually.

"I told you, it was where the desk used to be," he said quietly, "just lying on the floor."

Gene stood the block on the table and regarded it in silence. He knew Simon was expecting him to say something, to explain where it had come from, but he couldn't even speak. Finally, after they'd been staring at the damn thing for several minutes in silence Gene said,

"I hope you're not expecting me to explain this."

"Is it definitely not yours?" Simon asked.

"Well not unless I had a sex change, changed me name and got a demotion," said Gene.

"No, I mean… you never ordered this? Never thought about promoting Kim to DI?"

"I know me memory's not great but I'm more or less a hundred percent certain I'd have remembered that, Shoebury!" said Gene.

"Then where has it come from?" Simon asked again.

"Are we going to go round in circles here?" cried Gene, "I don't bleeding well know!"

Simi closed his eyes and leaned back a little against the wall. He felt a horrible sick feeling building in his chest.

"If it's not from here," he began quietly, "then there's only one other explanation. And it's not something I think you'll be very pleased to hear."

Gene stared at Simon and swallowed. He didn't want Simon to finish that thought, because if he was right and he knew what Simon was thinking then it was a little too much to consider.

"There's a difference between bleedthroughs and objects being sent to the afterlife by firstclass post, Shoebury," he said quietly.

Simon bit his lip as he looked at Gene.

"So you had the same thought," he said, as a statement rather than a question. He noticed Gene looked away and avoided answering that. He found his mouth growing rather dry. "Gene, the desk –"

"Don't Shoebury," Gene said bluntly.

"We checked the whole station – it's not there any more."

"Don't even say it."

"If worlds come too close together –"

"I asked you to stop talking about this"

"- can other things –"

"_Simon,"_ Gene's voice was angry and uncomfortable now, "stop. Conversation over."

Simon looked at the block. He swallowed.

"Kim was supposed to have left the force," he said quietly, "Alex told me, after she came back before – she'd become a tattooist, tattooists don't have name blocks do they?"

"Well maybe it stands for _Detailed Inkist,"_ Gene said crossly, getting to his feet, "no more discussion, Shoebury."

But Simon was talking to himself rather than to Gene.

"Who's got the desk?" he whispered. He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, "if this is Kim's and it's somehow come back –"

"Stop flapping those lips."

"Then logically, that means she must have –"

"Simon, do you want to spend the day with yer back jammed repeatedly against the filing cabinet?" Gene threatened.

Simon looked down and fell silent. He swallowed again. He didn't like the implications any more than Gene did but he really didn't feel that his back was up to another confrontation with the filing cabinet so he reluctantly fell silent. He tried to think of another topic of conversation. It took a while for him to think of anything that didn't involve office furniture. Finally he said,

"So when am I going to get this fantastic meal cooked for me then?"

Gene sighed. He'd managed to forget about that.

"Tomorrow," he said, "need some time to shape the potatoes…" he looked at Simon. "About Christmas."

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to be a bloody Scrooge this year are you?"

Simon sighed. He knew he'd gone about things the wrong way the year before.

"I'll try not to," he said.

Gene nodded and lifted his coffee mug.

"When you putting up yer tree?"

Simon hesitated.

"I don't have one," he said.

Gene scowled.

"First you try to take away me turkey and then I don't even get to make jokes about sticking you on the top of the tree?"

"There doesn't seem much point having a tree," said Simon.

"Well what are you going to put all me presents under?" Gene demanded.

"What's with your sudden interest in festivity?" cried Simon.

Gene shook his head slowly. He didn't want to sound like some soft poofy idiot but he felt as though he had to mark the festive season. Alex always made a big fuss; every year she'd nag and nag him to help decorate the tree and he'd deliberately throw on a few things upside down or round the back so that she'd berate him and correct them. He would never have admitted it but Alex's enjoyment of Christmas was infectious and no matter what he said he loved every moment. He couldn't face the thought of going through a Christmas with none of the things that Alex used to fuss over and enjoy.

Simon, on the other hand, wanted to do as little as possible for the opposite reason. Christmas reminded him _too_ much of Robin and being apart. Although they had never shared a Christmas living together they would help decorate each other's trees each year, usually over one weekend, a tree each day. Robin would be surprisingly fussy and fastidious about his decorations and be very possessive over where everything went, leaving Simon to wind him up and dissolve into laughter every time Robin adjusted one of the decorations he'd added. Now he couldn't face the thought of decorating a tree.

"You 'ave to 'ave a bloody tree," Gene told him.

"If you're so bothered then _you_ get one and decorate it," said Simon, "feel free. Be my guest. "

"Well maybe I will."

"You won't. I know you hate decorating the bloody things."

It was true. He did. That's why he made such an abysmal effort each year, so Alex would throw him off the job and do it herself. But that challenging tone in Simon's voice got his hackles up again.

"You bloody wait, Simon," he said, narrowing his eyes, "by the end of the day you'll be looking at the best dressed tree in Fenchurch."

"Oh bollocks I will."

"You challenging me?"

Simon hesitated.

"Tenner says you don't get as far as the baubles before you get pissed off and trash the tree.|"

Gene hesitated.

"You're on," he said eventually, shaking on the deal, _"wait…"_ suddenly his spirits sank and his fury increased. For the second time in as many days his competitive streak had led him to take up a challenge that he didn't even want to win. "_Bollocks!"_

Now not only did he have to cook but he had to spend the day up to his elbows in tinsel and glitter. Him and his big mouth.

This was going to be the worst weekend _ever._


	32. Chapter 16, 2011 & 1996: Tree Trauma

_**A/N: Don't think you're going crazy – this chapter skips between timelines!**_

**Chapter 16**

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"And to think Saturdays used to be my favourite day of the week," Kim commented as she surveyed the misery in the flat. None of them were exuding cheer and delight. Alex was upset about Molly still and her head was full of thoughts of Gene and how much she missed him, Robin was torn between throwing up and opening a tin of beans while brooding about his psychological desire to be pregnant while Kim herself was feeling incredibly guilty about putting the idea in her head and still moping about her vanishing name block. Something needed to be done. "Right," she said finally, "that's enough moping around for one day. Rob, shall we do the tree?"

Robin raised an eyebrow.

"Define 'we'," he said, making Kim giggle. They'd already been through this. By her own admission Kim wasn't the traditional Christmas tree type while Robin was obsessive and pernickety about his decorating technique. They'd had a jokey fight a couple of weeks earlier about what was going to happen when the time came to put up the decorations. Kim teased Robin that she was going to leave the tree unbalanced while he taunted her that she was going to hang nipple rings on it instead of decorations. They'd come to an agreement that Robin would decorate the tree and Kim would create her alternative Christmas decoration 'scene' from more Kim-like materials. It was a perfect compromise.

They'd invested in all new decorations. Robin didn't have the heart to use either his old ones or Simon's so they'd decided to buy new ones together. _New start, new decorations._ It wasn't a slogan that was going to catch on but it worked for them. So before Alex had moved in with them they'd bought a new tree and a variety of decorations. They'd gone for a fake tree; Robin had experienced a traumatic needle-shedding incident some years previously and since then it had been plastic all the way for him.

"Tell you what," Kim said, "while you start setting up the tree I'll go out and collect all the stuff I need for my display."

Robin nodded.

"Fair enough," he said.

Kim looked around.

"Ma'am?" she called to Alex, "do you want to go foraging?"

Alex hesitated. That wasn't an offer she received every day.

"Foraging?" she repeated, "for what exactly?"

"Stuff," said Kim.

"That narrows it down," frowned Alex.

"I got my promotion for my attention to detail," Kim teased. She got to her feet. "I want to go and collect some holly and stuff. Branches."

"You won't let me go to the convenience store down the road but you want to drag me picking branches?" Alex wasn't sure the logic was working there.

"Take it or leave it," said Kim, "fresh air with me, or watch Rob hanging baked beans on the tree."

"Hey," Robin frowned.

Alex hesitated.

"I'll get my coat," she said.

**~xXx~**

**1996**

Simon almost keeled over in horror as Gene lumbered through the doorway with the tattiest looking tree he's ever seen.

"Where the bloody hell has that come from?" he cried.

"Someone dumped it down the road," said Gene, "must have a new one."

"So you thought you'd offer it a warm bed for the night?"

"Ha bloody ha Shoebury," Gene dumped the dusty, moth-eaten tree in the middle of the floor, "better than shelling out for some ten foot plastic arsehole in Woolworths."

"Where are you going to get the decorations from?" Simon asked, "scrunch up a bit of tinfoil?"

"Oh ye of little faith," said Gene as he disappeared to bring in some boxes from the car. Simon sighed and shook his head slowly. Why had he challenged Gene to this? Now he was going to have to stare at some crappy festive reject for the next few weeks.

"Gene, I knew we made a bet but you don't have to do this," Simon said as Gene carried in a pile of boxes and dumped them by the tree.

"Just make sure you have that tenner in easy reach," he said, "watch and learn, Simon. Watch and learn."

Ten minutes later Simon had been watching and learned how not to put a tree together. It was leaning at a strange angle, had several limbs missing and was covered with enough dust to pass as fake snow. He had never been more thankful to hear the telephone ring.

"Hello?" he said with a sigh as he answered the call. Gene was unravelling a string of tinsel and getting his neck caught in it as he overheard the conversation. "What? You're joking…. No, no, I'll be right there… cheers, Eddie."

Gene looked at him curiously.

"Staplers running a revolution?" he guessed.

"No, another toastercide incident," Simon sighed, "you probably did well to avid Woolworths. There's been a mass murder. A revenge attack, Wires everywhere…" he shook his head. "So sad." He grabbed his jacket and quickly pulled on his shoes. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Don't hurry back," Gene called after him, "take yer time, safe in the knowledge that there'll be a bloody winter wonderland here when you get back."

He heard Simon snort rudely as he passed through the door. Gene scowled. Bloody cheek of it, doubting his decorating prowess.

He'd soon see.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

It only took a few moments for Robin to put the bare tree together and stand it in the corner of the room. With Christmas music playing in the background he finally felt relaxed for the first time in days. Thoughts of pregnancy and baked beans were far from his mind. All he could focus on was the thought of creating the perfect tree.

The lights were soon wrapped around the branches, glowing and twinkling as he tested them and the tinsel soon followed. Bands of colour stared back at him as he surveyed the job so far. _Perfect. _This was his guilty pleasure – the one thing that he could never get enough of – decorating his tree each year. He was the biggest kid he knew when it came to Christmas. Of course the year before had been spent alone, just a couple of months after Simon's death. He spent the festive season depressed and suicidal. He could never have imagined his life could change so much in a year.

He began to take the new baubles out of their packaging and had managed to hang no more than three when his imaginary baby started dancing on his bladder and sent him scurrying off to the toilet.

"Shit," he mumbled, abandoning the tree for just a few moments.

As he scurried from the room, a twinkling of starlight fluttered across the ceiling. It was almost imperceptible, certainly in his moment of urgency Robin didn't notice.

But it was there.

**~xXx~**

**1996**

"I'll bloody show him," Gene muttered, lights clenched between his teeth as he tried not to get tangled up in them for the fourteenth time. His time he actually managed to get them all onto the tree rather haphazardly but at least it was better than finding they'd somehow ended up wrapped themselves around his ankles and even sprawling to the floor in one humiliating incident.

It wasn't perfect. Most of them were on one side and he had to hit them three times to get them to work but at least they were on.

He approached the tinsel with caution. The tree and the lights he'd just about coped with but tinsel wasn't a very Gene Hunt thing to administer. He threw it on as fast as he could, making sure none of the twinkling strands attached themselves to him.

He started to remove the balls from their packaging, trying to resist the urge to make the obvious joke when he thought he saw something overhead. At first he thought the tree lights had switched themselves back on but when he looked they were still unplugged and dark. His eyes rose to the ceiling and just for the briefest of moments he thought he saw stars passing overhead. But they were there for only a moment, then gone. It wasn't like the heavy ceiling of stars that came with a collapse of the world. This was a moment, a flutter, and it chilled Gene to the core.

"What the…" Then starlight was forgotten as his eyes moved downwards and focused on three very neatly placed, shiny baubles on the tree. He looked at the packaging in his hand where he had yet to free his own decorations from the boxes. "Where the bloody hell did _they_ come from?"

Had they already been on the tree when he'd picked it up? He was fairly sure they weren't. He'd have noticed them, and besides - the tinsel and lights were beneath them. They had only just appeared, he was sure of it.

"Where the bloody hell have they…" her glanced around, "Shoebury? Are you trying to bugger up me tree?" He knew full well there was no way Simon could have crept by unseen, put the three decorations on the tree and slipped away again. Not unless he had a team of invisible friends doing the trick for him, but it was easier to believe the impossible than to think that three baubles had appeared from nowhere.

Abandoning the pile of unopened decorations he decided to take a brief look around the flat, just in case some faceless decoration sneak was lurking in one of the other rooms but he couldn't spot anyone. Nervously glancing at the three perfectly positioned decorations he shuddered and hurried to the kitchen in search of a nice soothing swig of scotch.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"That's better," a relieved Robin headed back to the lounge, looking forward to getting back to the matter at hand, decorating the tree with gusto and passion, but to his confusion the baubles he'd already placed were nowhere to be seen. With a frown he checked all round the tree, peered under strands of tinsel, checked the floor for fallen decorations and finally tried rubbing his eyes as though clearing away some kind of bauble-obscuring mist from his vision but there was still no sign of them.

"That's…. _weird_," he shuddered a little, "That's really, _really_ weird."

He chewed on his lip and started to wonder if he was going crazy. They'd been there… they had. They really had. He remembered placing them, matching up the colours of the tinsel for his colour co-ordinated effect, but now…

Well, now there were none.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his anxiety. His imagination was running away with him, that was it. He would just get back to the task at hand and forget about the disappearing tree balls. Trying to block the incident out of his memory he went about his business hanging more decorations, one at a time, building up a perfect festive rainbow. After a while he forgot all about the bizarre interlude and became totally wrapped up in the Christmas spirit. The tree was almost complete and he couldn't wait to show Kim his afternoon's work.

**~xXx~**

**1996**

"Maybe just one more," Gene muttered filling up his glass for the fourth time. He'd downed several large measures by now and to be honest he was starting to see dancing tree balls in front of his eyes. He'd been hiding out in the kitchen for the best part of an hour, unsure whether he could stand the idea of venturing back to the lounge when things seemed intent on appearing and disappearing at will.

He looked at the clock, fairly sure he'd lost his bet with Simon. He'd be back soon and the tree was almost bare, save for three mysterious decorations. So much for that tenner. He might as well get his wallet out. There was going to be no winter wonderland today.

"Gene?"

_Bugger._ Home even earlier than he'd expected. Downing his last glass of scotch he got to his feet a little unsteadily and started to weave his way back towards the lounge.

"Suppose money's about to change hands," he said with a slight hiccup. He found himself face to face with Simon.

"You've earned it too," he said.

Gene hesitated.

"What?"

He found a ten pound note in front of his face.

"Gene, I had no idea," Simon shook his head, "there I was thinking you didn't have an artistic bone in your body and you come up with a tree like that."

Gene swallowed. Maybe he'd overdone it with the scotch.

"Uh –"

Simon stepped back and turned around.

"It's magnificent," he said in awe, "it's like something Robin would have done."

As Simon stepped away Gene's eyes bulged from their sockets. There in the middle of the room was a tree of perfection, decorated in bands of rainbow colours from top to bottom; every bauble placed with precision, every light twinkling with beauty and every strand of tinsel wound with balance. He swallowed as the impact of the colours struck him. Where the hell had that come from? Was this another trick? Had Simon bought some kind of pre-dressed tree to shame him? But from the look on Simon's face he was as shocked as Gene was.

"Uh," Gene swallowed again. He looked from the fully decorated tree to Simon and then finally held out his hand. "Yeah. I definitely earned me tenner. All that glitter. Think I'll take it now and buy a fresh bottle of scotch." He paused "or a ticket to the Bahamas. Obviously been working too hard…"

In a slight trance he took the money from Simon and walked towards the door, edging carefully around the tree as he went, eying it suspiciously. Wherever the decorations had appeared from, they seemed to have found a new home on his tree. And he wasn't ready to question it.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"Come on! You're going to love it!"

Robin hopped from one foot to the other like an excited child when Kim and Alex arrived back, armed with that seemed to be an entire holly bush, amongst other items they had collected on their travels.

"Alright, give me a chance!" Kim protested as the holly prickled her on the nose, _"Ow…"_

She discarded the pile of natural resources in the kitchen and followed him through to the lounge.

"I think," Robin began as he introduced the tree with a flourish, "that this is my best one ye-_aaaarrrgghhhhh!"_

His eyes bolted as he arrived at an almost-bare tree. Flickery lights stood in place of his glorious twinkly ones, a few strands of threadbare tinsel were wound haphazardly around the branches and every last decoration he'd painstakingly hung had gone. Vanished. Disappeared. He felt his stomach lurch in shock and distress.

Kim glanced from the tree to Robin.

"Well where's the rest of it?" she asked.

Robin's mouth still gapped like a goldfish.

"I don't know!" he cried, "It… it was here a moment ago… it was all.." he started to pace around the tree, "all… right _here…"_ Desperate eyes turned to Kim and Alex, "I spent the last two hours on it!" he cried, "honestly! I hung every last bauble, and had all this tinsel, and the lights were really pretty, and…"

Kim swallowed as Robin's expression became increasingly anxious.

"_Shoosh,"_ she tried to be of comfort, "It's OK, Rob…" she hesitated, "you've been working very hard recently…"

"Kim, it was _there!"_ he cried, "I'm not going mad. It was all right there! Loads of decorations… All the balls and the icicles and the little Santas that looked like they were fiddling with themselves… it took me ages to get them all just right."

Kim glanced at Alex who seemed fairly alarmed.

"Uh…" she began, "maybe we should go and talk about this quietly in the bedroom and let Alex rest for a while.

"They were all _there_ Kim!" cried Robin, "I swear it!"

Kim laid an arm around his shoulders and led him firmly from the room to quieten him down a little and ply him with brandy and – if necessary – baked beans to soothe his troubled brow.

It's OK, Rob, we believe you…" she said, clearly thinking that someone was definitely going mad and she was fairly sure it wasn't her.

As she watched them leave, Alex looked at the pile of empty boxes in the corner and the trail of glitter around the room. While the decorations might not have been there now they'd definitely been at some point. She felt her heart start to race as she thought back to Kim's comments about her disappearing name block, not to mention the mysterious appearance of a desk from another world, and a lipstick and a pair of tights to boot.

Something didn't sit right with Alex. While Robin might be incubating a hysterical pregnancy he wasn't going to imagine decorating a tree and then hide all the evidence. She felt a shudder travel down her spine. Something very strange was happening, something she couldn't get anywhere near explaining. She almost thought for a moment she caught a whiff of scotch on the air but shook her head as thought _she_ was imagining things now.

There was a small, folded up piece of paper on the floor which she scoped down and picked it up. Unravelling it, she found a very out of date ten pond note staring back at her with Charles Dickens's face where Charles Darwin's should be. Another shudder went through her as she sat down and stared at the note.

"_They're pulling closer together,"_ she whispered.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Hello lovely A2A people, just a heads up, my health has been heading down a big ditch for months and has hit rock bottom. At the moment I can't sit for long or type for long so there's obviously going to be a slowdown with chapters. Please, please, PLEASE don't think that I'm taking your reviews and comments for granted and being rude by not replying, they really rock my world and it pleases me beyond anything you can imagine to know that you are still enjoying these stories and the bizarre post A2A universe that has become very much alive to me. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and to review, it really means a lot and you are awesome! -x-**_

_**Before anyone says 'forget about writing, look after yourself' I just want to explain that actually I am going to do everything I can to keep writing because I've learnt that I need one 'thing' to focus on when I go through bad patches; something to keep working towards, and if I stop writing then I might as well just give up fighting – seeing this through is my focus as silly as that might sound, even if I'm only writing a couple of paragraphs a day at least I'm still going!**_

_**I will be back on form as soon as I can be. Then watch out for millions of chapters a day :P And Ocean and Morgana, rest assured all the time I'm quiet I'm planning mean things :D x :Love you ladies x**_


	33. Chapter 17, 2011 & 1996: Fridge Stuck

**Chapter 17**

**2011**

"I really did decorate it, you know."

Kim could picture his pout, even though she was laying behind him.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "I know."

Robin hesitated.

"I couldn't tell if that was sarcasm or not," he said.

Kim sighed. The evening and night had been mostly filled with trying to calm Robin down after his beautifully decorated tree was replaced by something far less artistic. Robin was genuinely upset that his hard work had been for nothing - he'd wanted to make his first Christmas with Kim special, especially since they didn't know if it was going to be their last – and on top of that all their beautiful new decorations had genuinely vanished. While initially Kim had been a little in two minds over Robin's claims she'd thought about little else during the evening and come to the conclusion that even Robin couldn't have imagined decorating a whole tree. Unfortunately that had led her mind onto darker possibilities.

"Honestly, Rob," she said, "I know that you couldn't have just imagined it. And I doubt there are sneaky decoration burglars who come in and whip all the decorations when your back is turned, which means there's only one other explanation I can think of."

Robin turned slightly to face her, a little reluctantly. He'd enjoyed the soothing feeling of her fingers through the back of his hair and didn't want it to cease, but there was a note of seriousness in her voice that he had to respond to.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Kim pulled herself up a little.

"It's not the only thing that's gone missing lately," she said with a little sigh, "I keep thinking about my name block. It's just not the sort of thing that would wander. And I wouldn't even start to imagine the two were connected if it wasn't for the great big fuck-off piece of furniture that appeared. My desk." She shook her head slightly, "Rob, I _knew_ that desk. There is no doubt in my mind where it's come from. And that bloody lipstick and the tights weren't in that drawer. I'd think someone was having a joke at the expense of my appearance but the drawer was locked, Rob."

Robin chewed anxiously on his lip.

"What are you trying to say?" he asked.

Kim wasn't really sure. She had been trying to make sense of it in her own head all night and wasn't really getting anywhere.

"Something weird is happening between this world and that one, Rob," she said quietly, "if an unborn baby and a desk can sneak through from there then how do we know things aren't going back in the other direction? Like, to balance it out somehow?"

Robin frowned hard.

"You're saying you think all my decorations are somewhere on the other side of the line?" he wasn't sure he could fully understand what she was trying to say.

"That's one possibility," Kim said quietly, feeling a shudder travel down her spine at the thought, "shit, Rob, there's been something strange happening. We both know how close together the worlds have been growing. Maybe when Alex woke up and brought a tiny stowaway with her it opened some kind of gate that's letting through weird shit?" She swallowed as a sudden thought hit her. "My name block," she said quietly, "what if that has gone the other way?" Robin saw a kind of anxiety reflected in her eyes that he wasn't sure he'd seen before. "what the hell would happen if it appeared on someone's desk or Gene found it laying in the doorway of his office? Gods knows what they'd think."

Robin tried to come up with either a comforting answer or a humorous one but neither came ti mind. Finally he shook his head slowly.

"I don't know," he said quietly, "I would imagine they'd be as confused as we are right now." He rubbed his forehead. "What about my decorations?" he said quietly, "is Gene going to open his office door and a whole pile of balls will throw themselves at his head?"

Despite herself Kim couldn't resist laughing.

"We have no idea what time of year it is there either," she said, "would be hilarious if it happened in the middle of July."

"I like the idea of all the glitter and tinsel across his desk or something," Robin found himself relaxing just a little as he laughed, "he'd blow a fuse."

"Oh, there would be a shitload of scotch consumed to get over the shock of that, I'm sure," said Kim. They both laughed gently but their smiles soon faded as they both knew there was a more serious side to talk about. Kim's expression became worried as she said, "Simon told me once that Gene had explained something to him. He'd said that the worlds used to be closer together. Back when he was in Manchester, sometimes it seemed like the worlds interacted with each other. Cause and effect… things that happened in the other world actually changed the past here. Or the future." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Then it seemed the worlds moved apart for a long time. But the last year… ever since Alex woke up here at the new year and we had to help her home… we both know how closely they've been linked. Things in that world are affecting this one, Rob. Gene knocked Alex up in another world and here she is, in the real one, with a bun in her oven."

"And you got a new desk."

"An _old _one." Kim corrected.

Robin sighed and breathed in deeply to restore some oxygen to his lungs.

"So what, are we supposed to be on the lookout for things disappearing?" it was a ridiculous situation and he felt like a fool for saying it, "like we've got some kind of _non-ghost?_ How do we know what's going to go missing?" he started to panic slightly, "shit, what if I go to my underwear drawer and all my pants have gone, and then Gene Hunt opens his office door and they all fall on him from a great height?"

"OK, first of all – thanks for _that_ image," Kim wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the thought, "secondly, I have no idea whether my theory is even correct. I don't know if the stuff that's disappeared has gone there or not, or whether anything else might disappear. _Or_ appearify."

"_Appearify?" _Robin frowned, "you just made that word up."

"Nevertheless, we're just going to have to watch out carefully and see if anything else comes and goes," said Kim.

Robin swallowed.

"Including us?" he whispered.

Kim didn't reply. She didn't want to think about that. She was almost glad when her stomach gave a loud growl to take away the tension in the room.

"Shit, I'm bloody starving," she said quietly. She paused, "weren't you cooking some fantastic new recipe later?"

"Yeah, as long as my bloody ingredients don't disappear," Robin said, genuinely worried that this was going to become an issue in everyday life. He saw her shuffle uncomfortably as her stomach growled again. "You might want to get some breakfast first though, since it's about –" he glanced at the clock, "- nine hours before I unleash my latest creation upon your taste buds."

"It hasn't got beans in it, has it?" Kim asked suspiciously.

Robin sighed.

"No, no beans," he promised.

"Good," said Kim. She paused, listening for any other sounds around the flat. "Robin…?"

"Hmm?"

"D'you think Alex is up yet?"

Robin shrugged.

"No idea. Why?"

Kim blushed.

"Just thought we could, you know," she cleared her throat, "make good use of this lazy sunday morning." She paused, "before the bed disappears."

**~xXx~**

**1996**

Gene lost track of how long he'd been staring at the damned tree. He'd barely slept the night before and ended up giving up at around five, turning his attention to the immaculately decorated item in the centre of the room instead.

"Absolutely bloody ridiculous," he shook his head, "how can a tree decorate itself?"

He'd been happy enough to claim his reward from Simon but had been less than happy when, upon arriving at the off-licence, he found his ten pound note had vanished. Something was going on. Something wasn't right.

He heard Simonesque noises and looked around in time to see him padding blearily out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh god, not _still_ admiring your handiwork?" Simon admonished, "I mean, it's a bloody good tree but you're taking it to extremes."

"Yeah, well," Gene got to his feet and started to follow Simon to the kitchen, "just making sure everything's still where I left it. You can never be too careful."

Simon grabbed a couple of mugs.

"Coffee?" he watched Gene nod. "Look, I really mean what I said, Gene. Sorry for taking the piss. I am honestly impressed by the tree."

Gene shuffled uncomfortably.

"Yeah, me an' all," he mumbled, scratching his head.

"And I shouldn't have been so down on your cooking either," Simon continued, "forget about the meal, if you want to be in charge of the turkey, it's all yours."

Gene gulped. That wasn't what he wanted at all. The thought of wasting his Christmas with one hand jammed up a turkey's bottom was not an appealing one. He needed to make his terrible meal in order to get out of the damn thing.

"No, no, that's alright Shoebury," he held his palms up, "I've bought me ingredients now." He added silently, _not forking out for all that tuna and then not getting to use the stuff._

"Are you sure?" asked Simon, "after yesterday you must be knackered, that tree is a bloody masterpiece."

"And so will me dinner be, said Gene, "don't you worry about me, Simon, it'll be a pleasure to cook," he gloated slightly as a mug appeared before him, "and to watch you eat every last bite." By the time Simon was through with the fishy biscuits he was fairly sure he would never be allowed near the kitchen again and that suited him just perfectly.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

Alex had been staring at the tree for hours. She'd tried so hard to get a good night's sleep but failed miserably. In the end she'd taken herself into the lounge and spent the early hours of the morning trying to work out what could have happened to all of Robin's decorations. She'd quickly come to the same conclusions as Kim. They worried her. She could see positives and negatives - on the plus side she could almost feel how close Gene's world was. But on the down side, why were stupid things like trees, desks and tights slipping back and forth? There was only one thing that needed to skip back to ninety six and that was Alex herself.

She felt sorry for Robin, too. She'd never seen him look so thoroughly devastated as he was by the tree fiasco. It must have been a mixture of the hard work down the drain, all his new decorations disappearing and worrying that they would think he'd gone crazy.

She could hear more noises than were necessary coming from somewhere in the flat and cringed. _This_ was why she needed to get strong and find a way home – the last thing she wanted was to be subjected to Kim and Robin's sex noises – she wanted to be back home with Gene making some of their own.

"I need ear plugs," she mumbled as she moved through to the kitchen and started clanking around noisily to raise awareness that she was awake and could hear everything. Quite soon the sound of bed springs ceased and a few minutes later a slightly red-faced and tousled Kim came sheepishly into the kitchen,

"Morning, Ma'am," she said awkwardly, "I didn't think you were up yet."

"Well apparently I wasn't the only one who was _up_," Alex couldn't resist twisting the knife and turning Kim a deeper shaded of red. She smirked a little as she turned her back on her and stirred a row of coffees. She heard Robin's footsteps a moment later and glanced around to find him sinking, red-faced, into the chair beside Kim. They reminded her a little of a couple of teenagers caught out behind the bike sheds. It was, despite the uncomfortable factor, rather sweet she had to admit.

"Morning," Robin eventually said awkwardly.

Alex cautiously carried the cups one at a time. It seemed insignificant but to her it was a big thing. Just a week earlier she'd have slopped half the contents out the cups on the way. She was getting there, little by little.

"Feeling any better today?" she asked him.

"Kind of. _Confused,"_ Robin sighed, images of mocking bare trees dancing in his mind. "It's all been a bit weird for my liking."

"Rob, you live with _me,_ if you didn't like 'weird' I'd have been out on my arse months ago," Kim teased.

"You know what I mean," Robin sighed with a tiny smile. He looked at Alex. "Sorry I flipped out yesterday.

"Disappearing decorations can do that to a person," Alex told him.

Kim groaned and stood up as her stomach started rumbling again.

"Shit, why am I so hungry today?" she mumbled, rooting through the cupboards for breakfast.

"Oh, that reminds me," Robin jumped up, "Just need to check I've got enough eggs." He waked to the fridge and peered inside. There were six fresh eggs standing in the doorway, but elsewhere in the fridge an empty space caused him to frown. "Shit."

"What, no eggs?" asked Alex.

"No, we've got eggs," Robin shook his head, "But I must have forgotten the margarine." He closed the door and groaned, "Could have sworn I bought a new one yesterday."

"Don't worry about it, Rob," Kim began, pouring cornflakes into a bowl, "I have to go out this morning. I'll pick some up. You won't need it before lunch, will you?"

"No," said Robin, "that would be great. Thank you." he paused. "Where are you going anyway?"

Kim raised an eyebrow,

"It's a surprise," she said.

"Bollocks," Robin sighed. He'd had already had enough surprises for one weekend.

**~X~**

It was nearing eleven as Kim left the shop with bagfuls of decorations. They weren't quite as nice as the ones they'd bought before but at least Robin could decorate the tree again. She wasn't sure she'd gone for the right ones – she knew her taste was a little off-beat – but they would at the very least have a less than threadbare tree to stare at.

In a second bag was a large tub of Stork margarine, all ready for Robin's cooking skills to turn it into something delicious and fantastic. Somewhere between the supermarket and the Christmas shop Kim's hunger had returned and thoughts of a mid-morning snack were on her mind. Her vocal stomach led her to take a little detour to a café where she purchased a croissant and sat back in a hard plastic chair to enjoy it while surveying the decorations she'd chosen.

"I hope these are OK," she mumbled, "because I'm not going back in that shop this close to Christmas." She'd had to fight her way through mammoth crowds of shoppers looking for the perfect decorations for their tree. The throng had almost knocked her unconscious twice. In the end she had adopted a horrendous fake cough and cleared crowds from in front of her by spluttering and hacking her way around, pretending to spread a trail of germs and fear her wake. The crowd simply parted like the Red Sea. It was magnificent.

"I am _so_ trying that technique again," she told herself.

Her hunger sated for now, she picked up her bags again. One of them felt surprisingly light. Opening her Sainsbury's bag, she found it suddenly empty. She checked all around for the missing margarine – there was no sign of the damn thing.

"Where the bloody hell…?"

No hole in the bag. No margarine on the ground. Nothing. It was nowhere to be found.

"Oh for…" she closed her eyes and groaned. "_Great_. Bloody great. Disappearing margarine." She took a deep breath and shook her head.

Back to the supermarket.

~xXx~

"There. One block of margarine," Kim said a little breathlessly as she pushed it into the door of the fridge, "which was definitely more trouble than it should have been."

Robin looked a little confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh," Kim sighed as she shut the door, "bought one… must have fallen out the bag or something… anyway, forget about margarine, come and see what I got."

She led him excitedly out to the hallway where Alex was already nosing though bags of decorations and rather immaturely holding two tree balls up to her ears. She dropped them rather abruptly as soon as she realised she had company and pretended she'd been doing no such thing.

"What's this? Robin asked.

"Definitely not earrings," Alex said a little embarrassed.

"I know it's not as nice as the stuff that's disappeared but at least you can decorate the tree again now," Kim told Robin, stepping back with a slight smile to let him pass. She could already see his eyes lighting up in excitement like a kid on Christmas eve.

"Kim, this is brilliant," Robin couldn't resist pulling the decorations from the bags and taking better look, "this stuff is wonderful. It's perfect."

"Don't see why we should miss out on decorations just because ours have buggered off into the past," said Kim before she realised they hadn't shared their thoughts with Alex yet. They glanced at her to see her expression looking a little worried and she gave a slight nod.

"You thought the same thing?" Robin asked quietly.

Alex nodded silently, biting on her lip._ God, that was contagious, _she thought to herself. Robin had them all doing that now.

"Don't ask me how it would be possible," she said eventually, "because I don't know."

The three of them fell silent for a while, all watching the decorations nervously in case they took a little trip through time. When it seemed a fairly safe bet that they were going to stay put Robin said eventually,

"I guess it's time for lunch. Got a lot of cooking to do this afternoon."

Kim sighed with relief.

"Lunch, _brilliant,"_ she said, "what are we having?"

Robin glanced around.

"Beans OK with everyone?"

The answer was unanimous.

"No."

"Bollocks."

**~xXx~**

**1996**

"Get out me kitchen, Shoebury, I need full concentration."

Simon folded his arms.

"For one thing, it's _my_ kitchen," said Simon, "for another, I only want to get some milk to make a cuppa and then I'll be out of your way."

Gene sighed as Simon crossed to the fridge.

"Don't touch any of me ingredients," he warned.

Simon wished that he'd never challenged Gene to this. He hadn't even gone near a pan yet but he was bloody territorial. He decided to make his coffee as quickly as possible and then stay well away from Gene for the rest of the day, or at least until his culinary masterpiece was ready to be served. He opened the fridge and pulled out the milk, but froze and frowned as something odd caught his eye.

"There's a lot of margarine in here, Gene," he said, "what exactly are you making?"

"Nothing to do with me," said Gene.

"Well _I_ didn't buy it."

"Listen, sunshine, Gene Hunt does not use poncy girly margarine," Gene got to his feet and paced around to the fridge, "Butter. That's the stuff."

"Yes, well," Simon stood back, "tell that to the three blocks of Stork margarine in the fridge."

Gene peered in and frowned.

"Were they there this morning?" he asked.

"Not that I know of," said Simon.

"Well _I_ didn't buy them," said Gene, "not my style as you'll see tonight."

"Well it's not mine," said Simon, "when was the last time you saw me baking up a batch of bloody cakes or pastry?"

"It's not appeared from _nowhere!"_ Gene said crossly, "it's got to have come from _somewhere."_

"Why are we standing here arguing about margarine?" Simon demanded.

_"You_ bloody brought it up!"

"And you carried it on!"

Gene grabbed Simon by the collar and pressed him firmly into the doorway of the open fridge.

"Listen, Shoebury," he began sternly, "in approximately six hours from now your taste buds will be enjoying a trip down paradise lane accompanied by the finest in Hunt Cuisine."

"D-don't you mean _haute _cuisine?" Simon stammered nervously.

"I know what I mean!" Gene told him, "Now, unless you bugger off out of me kitchen, and take yer bloody trio of Storks with you, I'm going to leave you right here until yer bollocks freeze! You get the picture?"

"Very clearly Gene, yes," Simon gulped.

Gene let him go and he hurried away before he could lose a sensitive body part to frostbite. _This is it,_ Gene thought to himself, time for _action._ It was time to liberate the tuna from the cans and create those wonderful fishy biscuits once again. Of course, the whatever-he-could-find-in-the-cupboard-sauce would vary a little from the last time – he didn't expect there to be as many ingredients to choose from in Simon's kitchen – but his signature dishes would be cooking before Simon could say '_I'm not hungry'._

He opened the cupboard and stared inside. He stayed silent for quite some time, scratching his head. Then, with furrowed brow, he uttered one sentence;

"_Where the bloody hell has me tuna gone?"_

**~xXx~**

**2011**

Robin stared into the cupboard. He'd been staring for several minutes. Finally he reached in and pulled out four mysterious tins of tuna, one by one.

"I could swear these were not in there earlier," he mumbled. He sat them on the kitchen worktop as though they could explain to him what they were doing there, then decided to ignore the surprising fish and get on with the first part of the recipe. "Right… pastry…"

He started to collect together everything he needed for the pie he was about to create but quickly ran into difficulties as an empty slot in the fridge greeted him. A frown descended over his brow. _"Kim?"_ he called out.

A few moments later Kim arrived in the doorway.

"What's up?"

Robin bit his lip.

"I thought you got me some more margarine."

Kim frowned.

"I did. You saw it."

Robin stepped back to allow her to take a closer look at the fridge.

"Where did you put it?" he asked.

"Well, I put it right… _oh."_

He had never seen Kim's face fall so quickly. She stared into the fridge, staring at the empty space where she knew the margarine had been just hours before. "Rob, I… I put it right there… you _saw_ me…"

"Well it's not there now!" Robin started to get a bit panicky, "where is it? I can't make this without margarine!"

"Just relax," Kim held up her hands, "I'll go to the shop on the corner and get some more. I'll be five minutes."

Robin rubbed his forehead and looked from Kim to the fridge. How many blocks of margarine was that now? How many more missing ones were ahead? He shuddered as he thought about the decorations the day before. Were the worlds playing some sort of dumb trick on him? Could life and death play practical jokes?

"Where the hell has all my bloody margarine gone?" he demanded, picturing Gene's desk wobbling with three of the legs propped up by blocks of the stuff. He was all for worlds coming together if it meant Alex could go home soon - but not at the expense of a selection of blocks of butter substitute.

**~xXx~**

**1996**

"Right, fishy biscuits…" Gene rubbed his hands together. One shopping trip later, his tuna stock had been restored and it was time to begin work on a horrific culinary experience that would see him banned from ever _touching_ the oven again. "Right, what did I do first? Need me digestive biscuits…"

But as he walked to the cupboard something very strange began to happen to him. Starlight danced around the ceiling, enveloping him with a strange sensation; a tingle that spread from head to toe. As his hand reached into the cupboard it moved straight past the biscuits and clasped the plain flour which he pulled out unquestioningly. He almost felt as though he wasn't in control of his body. It wasn't a bad or unpleasant feeling, it was like being on autopilot. Like a kind of cookery satnav guiding him towards various ingredients. He shut the cupboard and walked to the fridge where he pulled out one of the blocks of margarine. Soon a collection of ingredients and implements were assembled on the kitchen counter and his hands were plunging into the mixing bowl, working together the constituents of the pastry that was forming beneath his fingertips.

A fleeting thought went through his mind; something along the lines of this not being the recipe he recalled but it didn't stay in his mind for long. Soon the thoughts had passed and in their place came a peaceful drive to create the crumbliest, most beautiful pastry that anyone had ever tasted.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"Here you are," Kim said brightly as she placed the margarine on the counter, "if I were you I'd use it straight away. Don't trust that fridge any more. Something weird going on with it. Scarier than that one from Ghostbusters."

"Yeah… thanks, Kim," Robin said distractedly as he stared at the rogue tins of tuna again. He couldn't seem to leave them alone. He felt drawn to them. Twice one of the little blighters found its way into his hand and he was on the verge of opening it before he realised what he was doing.

"You OK?" Kim asked as she started rummaging in a cupboard.

"Hmm?" Robin shook his head to try to bring himself back to the present moment, "Oh, sorry, yeah… I'm fine," his voice was quiet and distant.

"Are you sure?" Kim asked.

Robin _wasn't_ sure so he ignored the question.

"What are you doing?" he asked instead.

"Just getting a bag of crisps," Kim said.

"Stop picking," Robin scolded, "you'll spoil your appetite."

"As if," said Kim, "I'm looking forward to this marvellous new creation."

As she set off with a bag of crisps in her hand Robin's eyes turned nervously back to the tuna. It was calling him. It was literally dragging him in. He was powerless to fight it. He tried to take a few deep breaths, put the tuna put of his mind and focus on the recipe at hand.

"Right: _flour,"_ he began. He just had to concentrate. That was all. He walked towards a cupboard and opened the door with every intention of getting the flour from inside, but his hands chose a different course of action as his fingers closed around a packet of digestive biscuits instead.

**~xXx~**

**1996**

Simon had been listening to a lot of very strange noises coming from the kitchen. A few times he wasn't sure his nerves could take it and he'd hidden away in his bedroom for some time. He still couldn't imagine Gene cooking anything resembling real food, or at least food that wasn't cooked in three gallons of lard. But something strange happened halfway through the day – myriad wonderful aromas began to slip away from the kitchen and greet his curious senses. He sniffed deeply, trying to take in just how fantastic the smell was. This actually smelt like proper, home-cooked food. It was even making him salivate.

He watched the clock, waiting anxiously for the meal to be served. He found himself actually becoming quite hungry and looking forward to seeing what Gene served up. Finally he heard the oven ping, then a clattering of plates and a slightly confused Gene appeared in the doorway.

"Erm," he began, "I think it's ready."

Simon frowned at Gene's expression. He seemed shocked and dazed, with a smear of flour across one cheek and what appeared to be some sort of meat in his hair. There was also a piece of asparagus tucked behind his ear like a pen.

"You OK?" Simon asked, "you look a bit… _shell-shocked."_

"Fine," Gene said stiffly, "never better."

He walked back to the kitchen, leaving Simon to follow, a little concerned and confused. His confusion soon turned into admiration as a veritable array of gastronomic delights awaited him.

"_Gene!"_ he cried in utter shock, "I… I can't believe this… where did you learn to cook like _that?"_

Gene coughed and turned rather red in the face.

"Not really sure meself, Simon," he bluffed.

"This looks amazing," It had been a very long time since Simon enjoyed a home cooked meal. The food before him was driving his senses crazy. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the perfectly crisp pastry on top of the pie, the little parcels of vegetables and the thick, luxurious gravy. "I… I had no idea."

Gene sank into a chair.

"Neither did I," he mumbled.

He couldn't work out what had happened. He really couldn't. One moment he was hovering over a tin of tuna preparing to make his signature dish, a dish which was certain to have Simon scurrying off to the bathroom in horror, and the next there was a full three-course meal prepared. He didn't really remember doing any of it. He'd zoned out completely. It felt as though his mind had not been his own. Now he sat before an admitting tempting tableful of goodies with no recollection how he'd reached that point.

Simon was already digging in by the time Gene recovered enough to pick up a fork.

"Well?" he asked, not sure he even wanted to hear an answer.

Simon chewed and swallowed his mouthful, then stared at Gene in awe.

"Guv, the turkey is all yours," he beamed, "if you can make a pie taste this good then I can't wait to see what you'll do with a Christmas dinner."

Gene felt his brow furrow in a very severe frown. Suddenly his plan had gone horribly and hopelessly wrong.

"Bugger," he mumbled.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

Robin stared at the plateful of fishy biscuits before him. He wished that he knew how they'd gotten there. The last thing he remembered was staring into the cupboard and forgetting what ingredients went together and how to cook. The next, the table was full of the most disgusting looking creations he'd ever seen. He bit his lip, his stomach churning with anxiety and revulsion. He could hear Kim raving about his cooking from the lounge and Alex talking about how much she was looking forward to being a guinea pig for his new recipe. He had a feeling they would both be changing their minds fairly soon.

Where the hell had his mind _been_ all afternoon? There were snippets; tiny things that he recalled. He remembered sculpting potatoes into something that resembled seaborne mammals, and at some point another block of margarine had vanished, but that was OK, because he didn't need it anyway. All he needed was tuna, digestive biscuits, potatoes and a rather suspicious looking sauce that he seemed to have made from whatever he could find in the cupboard.

"_Rob?"_ he cringed as he heard Kim calling out, "is it ready yet? We're starving to death in here!"

Robin bit his lip.

"As ready as it will ever be," he said anxiously.

He watched and waited as Kim and Alex emerged and waked excitedly towards him. _Great._ _How to destroy the hopes and taste buds of two people in one easy step._

"So, what's this mystery dish then?" Alex asked, genuinely excited.

Robin took a deep breath. Then he lifted a plate and held out the fishy biscuits.

"_Ta-da?"_ he said nervously.

He had honestly never seen two people turn green that quickly in his life before.

As he watched Alex and Kim fleeing the room and fighting for the bathroom he realised that he'd most likely killed off his reputation within the space of one afternoon. In a depressed heap, he slumped into a chair and stared at the creations in front of him.

"Actually," he lifted one of the fishy biscuits, "these don't look half bad..."


	34. Chapter 18, 2011: Scattered Ashes

**Chapter 18: 2011**

Kim was eternally grateful that Monday was her turn to stay at home with Alex. She really wasn't feeling great.

"You didn't have to eat one, you know," Alex told her, a little disapprovingly. Watching Kim force a fishy biscuit down her neck at the eager eye of Robin had given Alex herself nightmares, as well as an extraordinarily long trip to the bathroom.

"Oh, but I _did_ though, Ma'am," Kim sighed, giving an involuntary belch at the god-awful memory, "didn't you see his face? He was gutted."

"Then he shouldn't have served us fishy biscuits!" Alex gagged a little at the thought, "why did you even give him the recipe?"

Kim sighed, pulling her legs up towards her chest as she lay on the couch.

"I _didn't,"_ she said, "honestly, I think I'd told him about _Come Dine With Me_ once but I never gave him that recipe." She shuddered, "or the dolphin nosed potatoes." She put her hand to her head. She was starting to get a migraine. "He told me he zoned out. He didn't know what happened. One minute he was about to make pastry and the next he was staring at a pile of digestives with mashed up tuna smeared across them."

"Even so," Alex's face still reflected layers of shock and revulsion, "why did he have to eat so _many_ of them?"

Kim hung her head.

"I think he has a new craving," she whimpered.

Alex felt sorry for the girl. In fact, she felt sorry for both Kim and Robin. She felt a little guilty too. None of them had voiced the theory but all three had privately come to the conclusion that the strange events of the day before had been another strange time related incident. Alex couldn't help but feel that her awakening had caused them both to be afflicted by the bizarre happenings.

"What happened to the leftovers?" She asked a little reluctantly.

Kim gulped.

"I think Robin took them to work," she said.

"At least that means they're not in the fridge," Alex said in relief.

Kim rubbed her forehead and finally sat up straight. She could easily have ended up lazing there all day but after the weekend's more serious discussions she knew that there was solemn business ahead for the afternoon. She looked at Alex a little nervously and said,

"Ma'am? Do you still want to start searching?"

Alex froze for a second as the conversation changed abruptly. She cleared her throat and gave a nervous nod.

"Yes please," she said quietly.

Kim nodded and got to her feet.

"I'll get my laptop," she said quietly.

Alex knew she couldn't put it off any longer. It wasn't as though she didn't _want_ to do it, it was just that she was afraid of what she might find; like when you trip and fall and you can't bring yourself for a moment to pull up your trouser leg to see how badly you've scraped your knee. She knew that finding out what happened after Gene's body had been discovered was a vital part of her journey home but at the same time discovering the truth scared her. The thought that he might not be at peace for whatever reason pulled at her heart. She dreaded the idea that he'd never been identified. It seemed like such a sad ending.

She waited as Kim returned with a laptop and set it up for her. As it warmed up, Alex wondered idly whether Kim had her porn collection on this one. A quick check of the documents suggested otherwise.

"Damn," she muttered.

"Pardon?" Kim looked up.

Alex wasn't aware she'd spoken out loud. She bit her lip nervously.

"Nothing," she said innocently. She sighed and opened up a browser window to begin her search.

She felt her fingers freeze over the keys and her insides churned and flipped at the thought of what she was about to do. Somehow just typing Gene's name seemed like the most daunting task. It wouldn't be the first time, of course. She'd typed it before, when she had no idea of where she was or how to get home. But back then her search was brief and frantic; now she had the time to take to do it properly.

She managed to type _'Ge-'_ before she froze again. Those damn fingers were not co-operating in the slightest. She hated the way that her nerve was fading. Somehow the thought of doing this was more daunting than facing a madman with a gun or someone holding a knife. She shook her head slightly. She needed to take this from a different angle.

She deleted the two letters and typed instead _Body at Farringfield Green_. Swallowing down her nerves, she clicked on _search_ and watched the results appear before her. One news story after another, filling the page, going on and on forever. She felt nauseous and overwhelmed as she stared at them. There were so many, she wasn't sure how she was going to cope with reading them, knowing what she already knew. She clicked on a link and the BBC News website appeared. Breathing deeply, she scanned the words. It told her little more than she had seen on the news report that filtered through her coma. It must have been one of the first stories to go up online, she realised as she looked at the time and date.

She followed a few links and more details emerged; interviews with those who'd found him and photographs of the scene. It turned her blood cold to see it again. As the pictures appeared she was almost transported back through the imagery in her mind. For a moment she could almost feel the cold air around her as she uncovered Gene's body on that terrible day of days. She could feel her eyes starting to mist over with tears but she couldn't do anything about it. In fact, she could barely move.

"Ma'am?"

It took a few moments before Alex could raise her head from the screen to look at Km instead.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Are you alright?" Kim asked, "I mean, if this is too much we can –"

"I'm fine," Alex said quickly, "I'm alright. It's just bringing back a lot of things I'd buried in the back of my mind, that's all."

She tried to give Kim a reassuring smile but knew that she'd be keeping a wary eye on her. It was strange how the friendship between them was developing out in the real world. It was trying to grow, to be based more on a level footing – after all, they were chronologically now of a similar age and the gap in rank almost negligible. But it was hard to break the habit of Kim seeing Alex as her superior, as well as having at least two decades on her age-wise and Alex seeing Kim as one of their young charges; a detective whose life came so close to the edge, who needed them to hold her hand and help her grow. The shift in dynamics was hard to get used to.

She turned her attention back to the screen and started looking for more details. She tried to search for more specifics such as '_Farringfield Green body identified' _and even, when she pulled her courage together, _'Farringfeld Green Gene Hunt'_, but she found little beyond the initial discovery and a few post-mortem reports.

She felt her head beginning to ache as she carried on searching. She wasn't used to staring at the computer and the bright screen was starting to get to her. She looked up at Kim who seemed to have taken residence across the couch.

"You don't need to babysit me, you know," she said.

"I'm not," Kim promised her, "I'm just trying to stop these images of dancing fishy biscuits from going through my head."

Alex carried on searching for another half an hour but eventually became disillusioned with her search and closed the laptop rather abruptly. Kim jumped a mile at the sound and looked around in shock. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes.

"Were you asleep?" Alex asked, a little accusingly.

Kim sat upright, feeling embarrassed.

"Uh… maybe… just for a minute," she said apologetically.

"_I'm_ supposed to be the knocked up ex-coma patient and _I'm_ wide awake," Alex told her.

"Well I didn't get much sleep last night," Kim protested, "between Robin's fifty three toilet trips and nightmares about peculiarly shaped potatoes crawling out of the sea the night was a write-off!"

~xXx~

As the afternoon passed and the sky grew dim the front door opened as Robin arrived home. The first thing he did was to check that his new decorations hadn't disappeared, then the second thing he did was to hand a file to Alex.

"Here," he said quietly.

Alex glanced from the file to Robin.

"What's this?" she asked.

"This is all we had at Fenchurch East about the body at Farringfield Green," Robin explained, sitting down next to Kim, "the majority of the paperwork is up in Manchester. Don't worry, I'm on it."

Alex cautiously opened the file as though something was going to leap out at her.

"Did you find out whether they were able to identify him?" Alex asked, surprised by how quiet and unsure she sounded.

Robin felt Kim's hand over his and glanced at her with a grateful smile. Although he barely knew Gene anything connected to the other world was daunting to think about. Literally digging up the past had caused Robin to feel unnerved ad anxious all day.

"They were never able to get a positive ID on his body," Robin said quietly. He saw Alex's face contort between several emotions. "The body was too badly decayed to get a sample of DNA from his remains and all forms of identification were missing."

Alex swallowed. She knew that Gene had kept the 6620 and she wasn't sure what happened to his arrest warrant but even so that shouldn't have affected things in the real world. She closed her eyes for a moment as the thought about that terrible day. Perhaps worlds were closer right then? Maybe she just hadn't grown accustomed to recognising the signs. Maybe this pocket of strangeness wasn't an isolated event. Perhaps at other times worlds had collided too.

"What did you find out?" she asked quietly.

Robin cleared his throat.

"They pinpointed the date of death as being somewhere between nineteen fifty and nineteen sixty," he sighed, "victim's age estimated as being late teens to early twenties. Single bullet wound to the head. They weren't able to identify him but there is a list of possible victims; police officers who disappeared between those years. Gene…" he took a staggered breath, "he's on the list."

Alex swallowed, her hands shook as she clasped the document, not yet prepared to look inside if it.

"W-why haven't they identified him properly?" she whispered.

Robin rubbed his forehead.

"Alex, he died a long time ago," he said quietly, "they haven't been able to trace any surviving family, his family line died out way before his body was discovered. They couldn't trace his dental records to identify him by because it's been so long. There was no way to make a positive ID. Some of the other names on the list they were able to discount from the enquiry for various reasons… but Gene's name is on a list of about five names that are still flagged up as possibilities."

"Why aren't they doing more to find out?" Alex felt herself becoming angry now.

"Because this isn't a missing teenage girl or a student who's disappeared on holiday," he shook his head, "it's a body found in a field that's been there for almost sixty years. Resources have had to go elsewhere." He looked apologetic, as though trying to take responsibility for the financial state of the police force. "I'm really sorry, Alex." He paused and chewed on his lip. "I've contacted Manchester for more information. They're sending some files down."

Alex nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she whispered. She stared at the file in her hands. "What… what happened to the body?" she asked eventually, "was it buried? Cremated?"

"Hopefully I can find out for you," Robin said quietly.

Alex nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Kim looked at Robin. His skin seemed terribly pale and his eyes haunted.

"Rob? Are you OK?" she asked.

Robin nodded slowly.

"It's just not exactly something I want to do every day," he said gently.

~xXx~

The evening passed quietly, everyone wrapped up in their own thoughts. When night-time came it was mostly uneventful aside from Kim waking up in the night, screaming and hiding from the giant tins of tuna that she'd just been dreaming about. The following day it was Kim's turn to go to work while Robin stayed with Alex but she was growing stronger by the day and clearly wouldn't be needing a 'babysitter' for much longer.

Kim attempted to find out any additional information about Gene's body from a CID point of view but turned up nothing new. It was a case of waiting for the files to arrive from Manchester and then working out their next plan of action.

As Wednesday arrived it brought with it a day that Alex had been anticipating and dreading in equal measures. She had managed to avoid almost all of her hospital appointments so far but this was one that she knew she had to attend. Her 20 week scan had arrived; the 'big scan', the one at which every little detail of her baby would be checked to make sure it was healthy and strong and – with any luck – to perhaps get a sneaky peek at whatever lurked between its legs. Alex had gone back and forth on wanting to know the gender. Eventually she'd decided that – if anything should happen, if anything should go wrong while trying to get home – she could never forgive herself for not knowing if it was a boy or a girl.

The morning seemed to take forever to pass. Her appointment wasn't until mid-afternoon and her patience had worn thin. She checked the clock so many times that she was sure her eyes had started to bore holes into its face. Finally the hands ticked around sufficiently for Kim to say,

"Are you ready to go?"

"I've been ready for hours," Alex sighed, grabbing her bag.

The journey to the hospital passed in near silence with Alex concentrating on keeping her legs tightly crossed. _Stupid bloody full-bladder rules._ With all the technology at the hospital's disposal yet they still put her through that discomfort. She was anxious about the appointment, partly worried about whether she would get a telling off for skipping so many arranged sessions and partly because she still knew what a miracle this baby's presence was in the real world and she couldn't face the thought of something being wrong.

She felt a little like a robot as she went through the motions; walking slowly down the corridor, waiting in the waiting room, leafing through a magazine without actually taking in a word. It felt as though a lifetime passed before she was called in for her scan. Anxiously she got to her feet and began to walk towards the room, glancing back to find Kim still sitting down.

"Aren't… you coming in?" she asked. She hated the way her voice sounded, so full of nerves. She was used to being strong and standing up for herself but she really needed someone by her side.

Kim seemed almost as nervous.

"I thought you'd rather go in on your own," she said.

Alex hesitated.

"Please?" she said quietly.

Kim bit her lip. She felt torn between the need to be there for Alex and the sadness at recalling her miscarriages. It was hard enough sometimes to see Alex getting bigger, knowing that it was almost her in that same place. In fact, she would have been almost exactly as far along as Alex was now. That stung her heart. But Alex needed someone with her and as Gene wasn't there to take his fatherly role then she would have to step up to the plate. Eventually, with a nervous smile, she got to her feet and followed Alex into the room for her scan.

~xXx~

"Alright, Alex, just relax."

_Squelch._

The squelch alone was enough to make Alex jump as the gel bottle made a highly unpleasant noise while it deposited a dollop of the stuff onto her swollen stomach.

"Pleasant," she commented, slightly pulling a face.

"Sorry, must be near the end of the bottle," the ultrasound technician apologised, giving it another squeeze.

_Squelch._

"Ugh, sounds like Robin after he ate all those fishy biscuits," Kim commented from across the room.

Alex gagged on the spot. She was beginning to regret asking her to accompany her to the scan. She laid back and waited as the technician began to move the wand around, in and out of the gel, across her belly, until the picture formed clearly on the screen. The moment she saw the baby moving around, heart beating away, Alex breathed her first sigh of relief. Not that she hadn't been feeling plenty of movement, but seeing it was something different.

"There's baby," the technician pointed out needlessly.

Alex frowned and truly wanted to say "_and you get paid for these observations?"_ God, she was even _thinking_ like Gene now. She really needed to get home.

With every part of the baby the technician examined Alex felt a little better and a little less anxious. She watched spellbound by every image on the screen; the hand that seemed to wave, the little foot that lashed out as she felt it brush her inside, the beautiful profile that one day shed be seeing in person. Finally when the technician asked,

"Do you want to know the gender?" she'd left behind her worries and had only a smile, hope and joy.

"Yes," she said eagerly, remembering to add a, "please," at the last minute so as not to sound rude.

The technician moved the wand around a little.

"I think I saw earlier, but I'm just going to double check," she said. There were a few moments of silence before she said, "It looks to me very much like you have a little girl here."

Alex felt her heart give a jolt at the words. She'd honestly had no preference one way or the other; neither had she felt it was more likely to be a boy or a girl, but just knowing made it all the more real. She felt her cheeks flush and her lips twitch into a smile.

"A girl," she repeated quietly.

The technician was smiling too.

"would you like a picture?" she asked.

Alex's smile grew.

"Oh yes," she said, "yes please."

The technician's smile grew too.

"That'll be five pounds please," she said greedily.

A scowl descended upon Alex's face.

"Nice sales pitch," she commented crossly.

~xXx~

Aside from that one blip the smile didn't leave Alex's face for a moment as she paid the extortionate price for a small picture of her baby and began the journey home with Kim. She spent several minutes just staring at the picture. The image combined with the kicks and flips inside her reminded her how real this was. As seemingly impossible as it had been, the baby had truly arrived in the real world with her.

She thought about Gene. Correction, she _always_ thought about Gene but in this case she specifically thought about how much she wished he'd been with her for the scan. She wished there was a way to tell him about the baby, that everything was alright, that he was going to have a daughter. She tried to picture how he would have reacted to the news. He would probably have moaned at first, making comments about having two women clogging up the bathroom and going through the rest of his repertoire of sexist jokes, before agreeing quite grudgingly that he was going to protect that girl for all he was worth; that no man was ever going to be good enough to go out with her, that she was going to be grounded until she was eighteen so he wouldn't have to worry about her getting into trouble and that she only had to call for him and he'd be by her side.

For much of the evening she focused on how much she wished that she could tell Gene the news. But later that night she became very aware of the fact that there was someone else she ought to tell. Someone she _needed_ to tell. More than that, it was someone she _wanted_ to tell.

Molly.

Her daughter had yet to speak to her. She wouldn't answer her calls or her emails, she refused to go and see her, communication had broken down completely between the two of them. It tore Alex's heart in two every time she thought about it.

All through the night she tossed and turned, fretting about Molly. She didn't want her to find out through some second-hand source that she was going to have a sister. That just felt wrong. Molly had already heard enough things second hand.

When morning came she felt just as unsettled about the situation as she has all night long and no closer to deciding what to do. Should she try speaking to her again? Should she send her a letter or an email, or should she try to call her? Leave a message on her voicemail? Would she even listen to it?

She huddled beneath the warm covers on the sofa bed, staring at the flip chart while she listened to the sounds of the morning – Kim getting ready for work, Robin battling for the bathroom and declaring that he was going to throw up, Kim accusing him of eating more fishy biscuits – finally things quietened down a little and she decided it was relatively safe to make an appearance.

This was to be her final day of having someone supervising her. The progress that she had made had been excellent and while she still needed a careful eye over her while managing certain tasks it was clear that having Robin or Kim babysitting her at all times was starting to be more of a hindrance than a help. She'd appreciated the support at first but now she needed to learn to cope on her own. She was looking forward to having some quiet alone time too, some space to get her head straight and work out the next step to finding her way home to Gene.

The documents that Robin had received from Manchester didn't really tell her very much more about the body except that Gene had been cremated and his ashes scattered in a memorial garden. As his identity had never been confirmed it had been the only course of action that seemed logical, but his entire memory was marked with a plaque for an _'un-named PC'._ She'd shuddered as she read those words.

"No wonder you're not at rest, Gene," she whispered to herself, staring at the amendments to her notes.

The day was a carbon copy of most others. She hated the routine, she longed to get back to her eclectic life with Gene. From one day to the next they never knew what was going to happen. Here, it was all much the same. She ate her breakfast, washed, spent some time going through the files again and trying to persuade Robin to make something other than beans for lunch. Eventually the evening arrived, as did Kim who was fuming about her pen pot disappearing.

"I had a whole batch of new bloody pens in that!" she cried, frustrated, "I had to go to extreme lengths to get them from the stationery cupboard without signing for them in triplicate!"

Alex coughed a little at the mention of stationery cupboards. She recalled that she and Gene had enjoyed an occasional moment in there. There was quite a large probability that conception had occurred in that cupboard, she realised.

She sat through dinner, thankfully with no tuna or beans or potatoes in sight, with her hosts making helpful suggestions that she was trying to ignore.

"You know what a good name for a girl is?" Kim asked.

Alex sighed.

"Kimberley?" she guessed.

"Or how about Robyn, with a Y?"

Alex groaned and rubbed her forehead. She was fairly sure that if she was still in 1996 she'd have been getting requests to name the baby Jean or Simone. She hadn't even started thinking about names yet. For now she was too busy thinking about Molly again and whether she should call her. She could think of little else, even the food in front of her. She pushed it around her plate for some time, barely noticing as Kim and Robin cleared their own plates until finally she pushed hers aside and excused herself.

She returned to her room and paced up and down for a while. It was very slow and awkward kind of pacing and often included a slight limp or holding onto a piece of furniture but it was as close to pacing as she could get for now and, damnit, that was still an improvement on where she was a week or so ago.

She stared at her phone. It was almost begging her to make the call. She couldn't fight the overwhelming need to talk to her daughter, even though she knew the chances of her actually responding were extremely slim. She sat down carefully on her bed and tapped at the screen to call up Molly from her contacts, then attempted to call her and hoped for the best. When the phone rang and rang she assumed that it was going to go to voicemail and end up as another ignored message, but to her surprise eventually there was a click and a fumbling noise and finally the voice of her daughter came on the line.

"_What?"_

That one word was so blunt and cold; it hurt more than a knife to the chest. She felt her nerve wavering along with her voice but she just about managed to say,

"Molly?"

"_I'm eating."_

Alex swallowed. Her daughter's tone was almost unrecognisable. Had that one revelation really killed off their relationship?

"I wanted to talk to you, Mols," she said quietly, "I've got some news." She waited for the girl to respond. When she didn't say anything Alex continued. "I had a scan yesterday. The baby…." She took a deep breath. "You're going to have a sister."

There was silence on the line. A steely silence that wasn't unexpected but still pained Alex to hear. Eventually she wasn't even sure of her daughter was still on the line. "Molly?"

"_What?"_

"I said the baby is a girl."

"_I heard."_

Alex swallowed. This wasn't getting her anywhere.

"I…I just wanted you to know," she said, her voice starting to tremble, "that you were going to have a sister."

There was another pause on the line before Molly spoke, and the moment she did Alex wished she'd stayed silent.

"_I'm not having a sister,"_ she said bluntly, "_that thing's got nothing to do with me."_

Alex tried to hold back a wave of emotion that was going to burst forth if she lost concentration. She tried to breathe in deeply but she couldn't seem to fill her lungs with air no matter how hard she tried.

"Molly, _please_," she whispered, "we have to sort this out."

"_I don't have to do anything,"_ Molly said childishly and the line went dead leaving Alex on the verge of tears that she'd been holding back all week. She sat and shook for a while, Molly's words hitting her hard, and finally laid the phone down beside the bed. She stifled a sob, desperate not to give in to it, but her sound of distress was loud enough to be heard from outside. She tried to turn away as Kim walked cautiously into the room.

"Ma'am?"

Alex waved her hand slightly.

"I'm tired, Kim," she said quietly.

Kim knew better than that.

"Was that Molly on the phone?" Alex's silence said more than any words could. "What did she say?" She waited and hoped that Alex would respond but she didn't dare. She knew that the moment she spoke she was going to start crying and she was scared she would never stop. Finally Kim nodded worriedly and said, "I'll leave you in peace, but if there's anything you need…?"

She watched the back of Alex's head as she nodded, then left the room and slowly closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath and shook her head. She knew Molly was a teenager and that she had been through a lot in a short space of time but Alex deserved more than that and Kim was sick of seeing how the girl's behaviour was hurting her. Alex's progress had been fantastic so far but every time Molly refused to talk to her or threw an insult her way it set her back. Enough was enough.

She knew she was meddling and she knew it was a risk but there was only so much Kim could take of seeing Alex treated that way by her own flesh and blood. It was time to take matters into her own hands.

~xXx~

Staring at the scribbled address on the piece of paper, Kim checked she had the right house number. It was dark and the road was unfamiliar, and while she had been there before her memory for locations wasn't always top-notch. She didn't want to end up knocking on a stranger's door.

With one last deep breath she strode up the path and rang the doorbell, waiting for what was likely to be an inevitable door slammed in her face. A few moments later the door opened slowly and a glimpse of a school uniform was seem before it started to close upon her.

"Yeah, I expected that," Kim told her, thrusting out her foot into the doorway. _"OW! Shit!" _

Despite herself Molly threw the door back open. She didn't want to speak to Kim but she hadn't intended to maim her either.

"Oh god, I didn't mean –" she watched Kim hopping around on one foot and setting forth a trail of expletives, "I… I'm sorry…" she watched the strange display for a few moments and thought about just closing the door again but Kim's hopping finally came to an end and the serious woman addressed Molly properly.

"First of all, my foot forgives you," she said, "secondly, I think we need to talk."

"I told mum and I'll tell you, that baby isn't my sister," Molly's vice shook a little as she spoke.

"There's more that we need to talk about than that," said Kim, "your mother's in pieces over you right now."

Molly looked down.

"What, are you her guardian now or something?"

"I'm her friend," Kim said seriously, "and when something's hurting her then it's my business to make sure she's OK. And believe me, Molly, you're _really_ hurting her." She saw Molly hang her head a little. "Can I come in? Only it's freeing out here. And my toes are swelling up out of all proportion."

Molly's hesitation seemed to last for eons, but finally she gave a slow nod and stepped aside. With a sigh of relief Kim stepped through the doorway. It was time that some truths finally came to the surface, however difficult they were going to be for Molly to deal with.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Confession! I genuinely had no idea whether I wanted Alex's baby to be a boy or a girl so I decided that she was going to have whatever I'm expecting, and just before Christmas I found out it's a girl – so Alex gets a girl too :D Plus, the squelchy gel bottle happened to me and the sound was horrific, it sounded like a comedy cow-pat sound effect on a TV show :P**_


	35. Chapter 18, 1996: Homesick Blues

_**+Additional A/N: Please forgive me for the confusion and for getting alerts of this chapter and the next one being uploaded twice - FFnet seems to have had a glitch and the new chapter I posted here this morning was replaced bizarrely with the previous chapter. The right one WAS up first thing because I always check the chapters are working correctly when I've posted them, but at some point after that it changed. **_

_**Luckily someone alerted me (thanks so much Rant, I really appreciate it) so if the 1996 chapter was the wrong one when you checked earlier then this is the right one. Having to re-upload the next chapter as well to make sure everything is in the right place. I hope that makes sense, I'm pretty pissed off with FFnet at the moment, could do without all the fussing about :( **_

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I actually had the strength to sit for long enough to write properly yesterday and two chapters kind of burst out!**_

**Chapter 18: 1996**

Gene sat at his desk, just as he did day in, day out. Yet these days he no longer felt as though he was at the helm of his station by taking up that position and surveying the scene. He felt terribly disconnected from it all. From _everything_. The people, the cases, the building itself. To anyone on the outside he'd been pulling himself together after his alcohol-fuelled months and getting on with his life. But to Gene, it felt like he was dead inside.

He stared at the walls as he leaned back in his chair. His office seemed empty too; devoid of the energy it had always radiated. He had tried to break out of that stale frame of mind but it wasn't going anywhere, no matter what he did.

He tried to remove his head from that particular subject and thought about the weird weekend instead. It might have been Monday morning but it was the strange Saturday and Sunday that played through his thoughts. He tried over and over to work out where all the decorations had come from but he couldn't fathom what had happened. The most likely option he'd come up with was that _Challenge Anneka_ had been drafted in to quickly decorate his tree before Simon returned, and if that was the case then he was particularly pissed off about missing out on seeing Anneka Rice's backside.

He left thoughts of trees to one side and tried to work out where his sudden flair for cookery had come from. He felt as though he'd experienced a period of missing time; somewhere between surveying the tins of tuna and serving up the meal he had a distinct lack of memories.

"So that's it," he muttered to himself, "I've been staying with Shoebury too long, the bloody X Files have got to me and I was abducted by aliens." He paused. "_Cooking_ aliens,"

He shook his head. He knew that was ridiculous. He tried to put himself back in that moment; to recall anything from those few lost hours. He had a vague memory of suddenly having a long fringe in his eye and a strange compulsion to do either Kim or Simon over the kitchen counter, but aside from that –

"Bugger this," he sighed and reached for his flask. A long drink of scotch was just what he needed. It calmed his anxiety and helped him to focus his mind on what was really bothering him. Aside from all the oddities the weekend had just been another couple of days in a place without Alex. And without Alex, it no longer felt like home.

"I'm bloody homesick," he mumbled. He felt like a soft idiot for it. Only schoolboys on their first camping trip get homesick. But he was homesick now.

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a little notebook which he flipped through until he found a number. He propped the book open on his desk, lifted the phone and dialled quickly. The call was answered in a couple of rings and a familiar voice came on the line. It wasn't exactly a friendly voice but it was a reminder of where he'd come from and that's what Gene needed right then.

"Should have known you'd still be clinging on by the tips of yer fingers, Litton," he said.

There was a moment's silence before Litton realised who was on the line.

"Gene Hunt, as I live and breathe," he declared.

"Yeah, shame about the breathing part, I can smell yer halitosis from here."

He heard Litton give a slightly sarcastic laugh.

"You always were the charmer, Gene," he said, "what do you want? Run out of pussy cry-babies down there to pick on or something?"

"Yeah, something like that," Gene said quietly. He knew his dip in volume would cause Litton to wonder what was wrong and tried to correct that. Turning his volume setting back to default he asked, "so what's new in the land of the brave?"

"Apart from my shoes, not a lot," said Litton, "you know, nothing changes. Including your underpants, probably. What's this about?"

Gene sighed and wished that he even had an answer to that.

"That time of year, isn't it?" he said, "time to talk to people you ignore for the other eleven months of the year."

"Can we just pretend we've skipped December then so you can go back to ignoring me?" asked Litton.

Gene moved onto a different subject.

"You still got that rodent on yer top lip?" he asked.

"If you mean my sophisticated facial hair then yes," said Litton, "you never managed to cultivate anything on your lip, did you? Bit of downy bum fluff and that was about it."

"Some of us aren't cold-blooded enough to need a coat on our faces," said Gene.

"Your repertoire is as slick as ever," Litton sighed, "but if there's no point to this call then I have an important lunch appointment with a pint."

Gene sighed. He wasn't even sure why he'd called him in the first place. Just needed to hear a voice form the old days, he supposed.

"Well get one on me," he said, "just this once".

"Gene Hunt finally buys a round," Litton commented, "shame his wallet is two hundred miles away."

"Bugger off, Litton," said Gene,

"And you," said Litton as the line went dead.

Gene sighed deeply as he put down the phone. He was surprised by some of the things he found he actually missed from his days in Manchester. While he might not have missed Litton turning up like a bad penny he did miss getting one over on him as often as possible.

He bent down and pulled the telephone directory out from under his wobbly desk leg, then flicked through to the page he was looking for. Propping it open, he dialled a number and waited until someone answered.

"_National rail enquiries?"_

Yeah, I'm looking for prices," Gene said a little awkwardly, "how much is a single to Manchester from London?" He waited as the lady on the line did some quick checking and quoted him prices that made his ears bleed. "And what exactly are these trains made from? Platinum?" he listened to her making excuses then told her, "Don't worry, I'll sculpt me own set of wings out of eighteen carat gold and _fly_ there," before hanging up on her and sighing crossly. It wasn't as though Gene Hunt ever took a train – the stupid weedy things weren't exactly ideal Gene Genie transport – but the last time he'd driven in that direction had been a very dark day indeed and he wasn't sure he had the heart for it. That is, if he decided to go home for a visit. He still wasn't sure yet. But the call of the North was getting stronger.

"Gene?"

He hadn't even heard the door open.

"Simon," he sighed, "come to award me a Michelin star have you?"

"Uh, just some files actually," Simon said apologetically, placing a bundle on Gene's desk, "you know though, I really am impressed by yesterday. I haven't had a meal like that since…" he paused, trying to think, "Well, not since I arrived here, that's for sure."

"And yer not likely to have one again," Gene mumbled, still trying to work out where his burst of cookery skill had come from.

"All three courses were amazing," said Simon, "I hear the woman with the fat arse is after your recipes. Ad she wants to know if you have any recommendations for sprouts."

Gene gagged.

"Yes – stick them in the bin before some poor sucker has the misfortune to taste one," he said.

Simon hesitated and glanced back into CID.

"No sign of the desk then?" he asked quietly.

Gene's expression became notably darker

"Not yet," he said stiffly. He looked at the array of stationery on his desk. "Although a stuffed pen pot was standing in its place this morning."

"And now appears to be standing on your desk," said Simon.

"Two things you never turn down, Shoebury," Gene began, "a free drink and free stationery."

Simon couldn't help but feel that Gene wasn't quite himself that day. He wasn't quite on form. His heart wasn't in his banter and he seemed to want to be elsewhere.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Me?" sighed Gene, "never better – it's a week 'til Christmas and I've got more pens than WH Smith. What more could I want?"

Simon knew Gene better than that, but he also knew better than to push it when Gene clearly wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Eddie should be back with the lattes in a bit," he said, "do you want anything from the canteen for lunch?"

Gene hesitated.

"On a scale of one to ten how strong is the classic aroma of _Sprouts A la Bollocks?"_ he asked.

Simon wrinkled up his nose.

"About an eight," he said.

"In that case I think I'd rather starve," Gene told him.

Simon nodded.

"A valid decision," he said and left Gene alone to brood.


	36. Chapter 19, 2011: Truth Dispatched

**Chapter 19: 2011**

"I'm not here to have a go," Kim told Molly as she watched the girl hanging her head again, "I'm here before this is hurting you as much as it is your mother. _Look_ at you. Anyone can see that you're as depressed as each other. But_ you're _the one with the power to fix it." She hesitated, hoping Molly might speak up but she wasn't ready to say anything yet. Kim sighed a little. She really wasn't good at this kind of thing and wasn't sure she could find the words to fix this situation. "You've been an only child for a long time, Molly. You've never had a sibling before. Of course you're going to be jealous –"

"I'm not _jealous,"_ Molly snapped, finally looking at Kim, sending her daggers through her glare.

"But you're not exactly brimming over with joy," Kim pointed out. She took a deep breath and looked down. "I was one of three. Middle one. When my little sister arrived I felt like I was going to be pushed out the family. One minute I was the baby that everyone doted on, the next there was this screaming little thing that was going to take up all the attention. Except…" she looked seriously at Molly, "that's not what happened. Because a new baby doesn't mean that there's any the less love to go around. In fact, there's more of it."

She saw Molly glance up for a split second, then look away again.

"I thought I was going to get mum back," she whispered.

"Pardon?"

"I thought I was finally going to have a mum again," Molly spoke up a little, "everyone gave up on her – _everyone_. _I_ didn't. I've spent hours by her bed, begging her to wake up and get better and then she finally did and I thought everything was going to be OK. I thought in a few months we'd be able to move back home and do all the things I've missed in the last three years." She shook her head. "Now she's going to be stuck with some _baby_," she said the word 'baby' like it left a bitter taste in her mouth, "and we can't do any of those things."

"Never heard of babysitters?" Kim asked sarcastically.

Molly scowled.

"Yeah – that's going to be me, isn't it? Always ending up stuck babysitting the thing."

"You're looking at everything from such a selfish point of view," Kim shook her head, "and to a degree I can understand that. You're young, you're growing up and you've been through a lot of crap in a short space of time. You wanted this one thing to go right for you – for _you_ – but you've forgotten to think about what your mother wants."

"Well not _me_ for a start," Molly snapped, looking away.

"Just because she's going to have a baby –"

"It's got nothing to _do_ with the baby!" Molly's voice was angry suddenly and a look of despair flashed through her eyes. it was enough to make Kim pull back.

"It – _what?"_ she wasn't sure what she meant.

"Come off it, you know as much as I do there's more to all this!" Molly cried, "All that stuff you've been covering up for. All of you. Mum, you, Robin – probably Simon did too." She saw Kim's expression growing more awkward by the moment, "I remember what Robin told me, when I went to see him after the accident. His car accident with mum, after she went into another coma. He said Mum was with someone who loved her." She breathed heavily as months of pent-up anger and despair started to flood out, "Who's Gene?"

Kim stared at her. She found herself shaking.

"I don't think you should hear it from me," she said quietly, "I think…" she swallowed and closed her eyes. She remembered Alex's words on Saturday morning. "I think you should hear it from your mother."

Molly's lip trembled.

"And this baby," she whispered, "It's not true, is it… what the hospital said? It wasn't rape."

Kim looked down.

"Again, it's not me you should be hearing this from," she said quietly.

Molly swallowed. She couldn't seem to clear the lump from her throat.

"And Layton," she whispered, "the barge… that wasn't really Layton, was it?" Kim's silence and grim expression told Molly more than words could say. "Who was it?"

"A very evil man," Kim whispered.

Molly's eyes glistened with tears.

"Mum didn't want to come back," she whispered as she finally admitted the truth that she knew deep down, "_did_ she?" she watched Kim carefully for any hint of a response, "she wanted to stay where she was… with whoever that man is… that Gene. She chose some man over me."

"It's not that simple, Molly," Kim shook her head slowly.

"_You_ made it that simple, didn't you?"

"What?"

"You dumped your kids because you were shagging Robin."

Kim's mouth dropped open, partly from the shock at her blunt words and partly because she was still under the illusion that Molly hadn't noticed her relationship. She shook her head crossly.

"Things are _never_ that simple, Molly," she said crossly, "you may have had to grow up quickly when your mum was shot but, _god,_ you still have a long way to go to understand. Choices are never that straightforward, especially not where children and love are concerned. Now, for _one_ thing, Robin and me are not '_shagging'_…" she bit her lip, "technically we _are_ shagging… but that's not what it's about." She shook her head slowly, "I fell in love with someone unexpectedly. Someone I would never in a _million_ years have expected to fall in love with," her voice broke up a little, "a-and the same thing happened to your mother." She saw Molly's eyes turn downwards, "and it is never a simple decision, Molly. I miss my boys so hard that it _hurts_, it physically hurts me that I can't be with them, but me and Linda… my wife…" she felt her heart racing as she thought about all those poisonous, spiteful words Linda had said to her, "she… she wasn't very nice to me. In fact, she was slowly destroying me. I wasn't me any more. She found a new way to hurt me every day."

"Like being bullied?" Molly asked. Kim noticed her voice had changed. It was softer now. She nodded.

"Yes," she whispered, "it was like being bullied." She swallowed and drew in a deep breath. "And as much as I miss my boys every single day and I would do anything to change that… every day I'm away from her I get a little bit more of myself back. And every day I'm with Robin I get just a little bit happier."

Molly stared at her.

"You never used to smile," she said quietly.

Kim looked at her curiously.

"What?"

"You never smiled," Molly told her, "not for months. When I first met you, you always looked miserable. Then you started grinning."

"And from that you deduced that Robin and me were shagging?"

"Sort of."

Kim nodded slowly. She knew she'd changed in many positive ways in the last few months. Others had apparently noticed too.

"You see," she whispered, "things are never as straightforward as you think, Molly. And in your mum's case…" she shook her head, "it makes me and Robin look straightforward." She slowly got to her feet. "But that's not my story to tell." she stepped towards the door. "Get your shoes on, Molly. Leave a note for your foster mother. Come and sort this out now." She saw the girl hesitate. "No more lies or cover-ups. She's ready to tell you the truth." She paused. "She _needs_ to. For both your sakes."

Molly hesitated. After wanting to know the truth for so long the thought that it was so close suddenly scared her. Once she found out, there was no taking it back. But she knew Kim was right – they were both hurting and they couldn't carry on that way. Finally she gave a slow nod and walked out of the doorway, into the hall to slip on her shoes.

"I'll text her on the way," she whispered.

Kim nodded.

"Alright," she said quietly.

As Molly followed her out to her car she felt herself shaking and her heart rate rising. The truth was a terrifying concept. But the thought of further lies scared her more.

~xXx~

Alex was aware of the sound of the front door opening and voices in the hall but she hadn't expected the sight of her daughter's anxious face arriving in her room with Kim just behind her.

"You have a visitor, Ma'am," she said quietly.

Alex swallowed.

"Molly," she whispered. She found her hand drifting protectively to her stomach as though to shield the baby from any more of Molly's vicious comments.

"I think Molly is ready to listen now," Kim said quietly. She nodded slightly towards the flip chart. "Tell her. She can handle it." She gave a slightly awkward smile. "She's not stupid, this one." She turned to Molly, "And don't say '_shagging'_ in front of your mother," she glanced at Alex. "Sorry."

A confused Alex looked from one to the other.

"_Who's_ shagging?" she asked urgently, fearing it was Molly going off the rails.

"The, uh, word in question was aimed at me," Kim had the god grace to blush before slipping out of the door and leaving mother and daughter alone.

Alex stared at Molly. Her daughter's face reflected myriad emotions.

"Will you come and sit down with me?" she asked quietly.

Molly kept her eyes down low and slowly walked towards her. She perched on the edge of the bed, as far from Alex as she could. Alex had been expecting that. A least she wasn't hiding over the other side of the room. She took a deep breath.

"OK, Molly," she said quietly, "let's see if we can sort this out." She was about to start talking about the baby again, making promises that the baby wasn't displacing her love for Molly and all the other things that she thought had been at the root of Molly's behaviour but before she could say a word Molly opened her mouth and whispered,

"Tell me about Gene."

That stumped her. Alex really hadn't been expecting to hear that.

"What?"

Finally Molly caught her eye.

"Kim said you'd be honest with me at last," she whispered. She saw a pink glow of awkwardness spread across her mother's cheeks. "Where have you been, mum?"

Alex swallowed. She was going to deliberately misunderstand the question and say something like '_the corner shop'_ but she knew exactly what Molly meant. She found she couldn't quite look her daughter in the eye.

"Do you remember Sam Tyler?" she asked quietly. She glanced at Molly who looked confused. "He was the man whose file you were reading in the car, the morning I was shot." Molly bit her lip. She had a vague recollection of it and nodded slowly, "well, you might have thought he was a sad case at the time, but that's nothing compared to what you'll think of me." She took a deep breath. "When Arthur Layton fired that bullet into my head I went to a-a place," her voice trembled. She had never explained it to an outsider before. The words didn't seem easy to find. "The people Sam Tyler had spoken about… the ones he met during his coma," she swallowed, "well… well, they were _there_. And immediately I assumed that I was dreaming. You'd been reading the file in the car, it seemed logical my mind had recreated Tyler's fantasies." She tried to watch Molly's expression carefully. Did the girl think she was crazy? Did she think she was spinning her a tale? "I would hear things… through my coma… from the outside world. Over a radio or through someone else.. I know this sounds surreal, Molly, it's exactly the kind of thing I analysed from a psychology point of view over and over again, a world created by someone's subconscious." She shook her head. "But it wasn't '_my'_ world."

Molly stared at her.

"Go on," she whispered, unsure what to think.

Alex drew in a deep breath.

"Time… was strange there, Mols," she whispered, "hours or days here translated into years over there. Sometimes things seemed to speed up or slow down. I was there for," her voice started to choke up, "fifteen years, give or take."

"But…. It's only been three years," Molly whispered.

"See what I mean?" Alex hung her head, "to me I've been there for a very, very long time. It became my life, Molly. My job, the place and all the people there."

Molly felt a shudder down her spine.

"People like Gene?" she asked.

Alex swallowed.

"Gene Hunt," she said quietly, "the man that had antagonised Sam Tyler for the duration of his coma was suddenly antagonising _me_. We didn't get on at first, not at all." She shook her head, "there might have been some slapping…" she closed her eyes, trying not to smile at the memories that flooded back, "but, with time, we drew closer." She wasn't sure how to explain herself to Molly. She didn't want to make her feel worse but she wanted her to know the truth. "I'd been a part of that world for three years when I learnt the truth about it, Mols. And I know what you're going to think because it's…" she exhaled, "it's what I've brought you _up_ to think. But if you can suspend your disbelief for just a while and listen, I'll tell you."

Molly stared on.

"Please, tell me the truth," she whispered.

Alex nodded slowly.

"People like me;… like Gene… Robin, Kim, Simon – detectives… coppers… sometimes we have unfinished business in our lives. Or we never really had chance for a life." She looked Molly in the eye. "It was a world created so that when we die, or when our lives are hanging in the balance, we have a place to go to resolve whatever we need to before we can move on."

"Heaven?" Molly's tone was mocking.

"No," Alex shook her head, "I'd tell you what heaven is like, but…" she gave a gentle laugh, "then you really _would_ think I had lost my marbles." She stared Molly in the eye. "I _do_ know how this sounds, Mols, but think about it. Think about all the things you've heard and seen, all the things that made you suspicious. Where do you think I met Robin and Kim?"

"You… I thought you worked with them…"

"Not here," Alex said quietly, "not in this world. I met them _there_."

Molly bit her lip.

"Robin… was in a coma," she whispered, "after the car crash…"

"And Kim," Alex told her, "several years ago she was stabbed. She almost died."

Molly tried to take it all in. It seemed like such an incredible, illogical concept, it was hard to lend any kind of credibility to it. And yet the pieces fitted.

"And Gene?" she said quietly, "you…" the words were not easy for a girl to ask her mother, "You loved him?"

"_Love_," Alex corrected, "and yes, very, very much." She paused. "We've been together for a great number of years."

"Do you love him more than me?"

Her daughter's eyes were full of tears.

"It's a different kind of love, " Alex whispered, "and it's impossible to compare. One day when you have children of your own you'll understand. Until that day, it's impossible to put into words.

"But you chose him over me," Molly whispered.

Alex felt as though her heart was going to stall.

"Mols, it's not that easy to explain," she whispered, "to you it's been three years. To _me…"_ she drew in her breath. "It's the life I've lived for over fifteen years. While I was there I missed you every single damn day of my life."

Molly wasn't sure she wanted Alex to go on. She didn't want to hear something that would break her heart.

"And this… _baby?_ " She watched her mother look downward to the swollen belly spilling out into her lap. "Are you saying it's… it's this _Gene_ person's?" She shook her head slowly, "I can… I can maybe believe what you said about going to a place… It explains a lot of stuff about Kim and Robin, _and_ Simon… but how can a baby that existed in your head be real?"

"The baby didn't exist in my head," she whispered, "she existed in my body. My _other_ body. I was different, Mols. Most people there have already…. They've already passed away. Only a few are like I was, and very, very few for such a long time. I became real there. I had two bodies, Molly. And when I fell pregnant it weakened me. I couldn't exist in both places, and when I was hurt over there I woke up here. Somehow…" her hand slid to her stomach, "the baby came too."

Molly stared at her mother's belly; the growing curve beneath the material of her borrowed clothes. So many thoughts were raging through her mind, between feeling relieved at the thought that no one had forced themselves on her mother while in her hospital bed and doubtful that her mother could have somehow brought an 'imaginary' baby into the real world from whatever strange dimension connected her with the two people who had given her space in their home to recuperate, she didn't know what to say. Eventually she let her hand speak for her as she slowly reached out with trembling fingers and laid her palm against her mother's stomach. The gesture surprised Alex so much that she felt tears pricking her eyes instantly which she tried hard to bite back. It was certainly more than she'd hoped for that night.

"Were you married?" Molly whispered.

"What?"

"To Gene?"

Alex swallowed. She knew the tears weren't going to stay back for much longer.

"Engaged," she whispered.

"What's he like?"

"Gene?" Molly nodded and Alex gave a slightly sniffly laugh, "I'm not sure there are words to describe him, Molly. Not really. And even if I tried you would look at me in horror and think, _how could my mum have ever fallen for someone like that?_ But the problem is, Mols… there are two Genes. There's the Gene you meet when you wake in a strange place; who blunders around, puts you in your place, throws you against a filing cabinet and makes you think you're going crazy. And then there's the Gene you get to know. The one with the good heart, as much as he tries to hide it. The one who holds your hand and helps you through whatever's brought you to that place and then finally helps you on your way. The one who will go to any lengths to protect the people he cares about." She looked her in the eye. "The one I fell in love with." She wiped her eye as a tear began to roll down her cheek. "And if you ask Kim or Robin they'll both tell you the same." She paused. "Except for the falling in love part."

Molly gave a very slow nod, trying to take in what she'd heard. There were other questions coming to her now, ones that she needed to ask while they were fresh in her mind.

"What about Simon?" she asked quietly.

Alex gave a fond smile. She began to feel a heaviness in her heart. Although her main focus had always been Gene and getting home to him there were so many other people and parts of the world she missed.

"He's there, Mols," she said quietly, "he's OK."

"He came home and went again?"

Alex nodded.

"He has a job to do there. Just like Gene. Just like me. Helping others."

"Who was the man that took me and tied me up on the barge?" Molly whispered, "I know it wasn't Layton."

Alex swallowed hard. This wasn't a subject she wanted to cover.

"His name is Jim Keats," she whispered, "he's a very evil man."

"I noticed," Molly couldn't help but point out, "I… I recognise the name…"

"He was the man that Simon saved your mother from in her hospital room," Kim's voice at the doorway made them both jump. They looked up, surprised to see her. "I'm… I'm sorry, I wasn't eavesdropping," Kim said apologetically, "I just wanted to see if you were both OK."

Alex nodded slowly.

"We're doing alright," she said with a nervous smile.

"This Keats," Molly began, "I don't understand why he was after you… or why he came after me…?"

Alex felt sick at the mention of his name.

"He's a twisted man, Molly. A dangerous and twisted man. Somehow he managed to get into Layton's head… I wish I could explain it better."

"Why is he so evil?" Molly asked, "I don't understand why he has it in for you so much."

Alex faltered. She felt so drained already she wasn't sure she could cope with explaining this too.

"Molly –"

"Maybe I can help," Kim's voice recued Alex from the heart-breaking speech she was about to give. She looked at Kim whose expression was grim and fearful, and Alex knew that she had more reason to dread the mention of his name than most. "I know something that might explain things a little better. She nodded towards the door. "Come on."

Molly glanced at Alex.

"It's OK," Alex said quietly with a nervous smile, "go with Kim. We'll talk more later."

Nervously Molly got to her feet and followed Kim from the room, leaving Alex in the middle of so many different thoughts and emotions. She knew that there were elements of their talk that Molly would struggle with – hell, if the roles were reversed she knew she wouldn't be as open minded – but they'd made progress, and that was as much as she could hope for.

She let herself shed a few tears, then pulled herself together and got to her feet. She couldn't help but wonder exactly what Kim was doing to help explain to Molly about Keats and left the room to find them. She located them in the lounge, Kim's laptop propped on Molly's knees and a TV programme showing on 4OD. She recognised the _Dispatches_ logo and the annoying woman as the programme played.

"…_In the days that followed, an alarming number of facts came out about the history of this man, this deeply twisted man, and the crimes that he was able to sweep under the carpet. There are questions that need to be answered. How was he put in a position of such power in the first place? How did he get away with his campaign of stalking and violence for so many years and how did his own mental issues lay undetected for so long?"_

The words made Alex shudder as she recalled being shown the programme by Robin the night before the rooftop showdown with Layton. It had been one of the most disturbing things that she had ever seen and her initial reaction was to stop Molly from being subjected to it, but as she watched her daughter sitting and watching it with Kim beside her, just in case she needed someone to turn to or to ask a question of, she realised that Molly wasn't just a little girl any more. She was a young lady, becoming more mature every day, and if she could handle knowing the truth about Gene's world she had to know about the dark side too.

_"But first,"_ the presenter's annoying voice said, _"we take a look at the man before the incident. The young man whose life was changed after a horrifying attack left him comatose for four years of his life."_

"Mols?" she said quietly as her daughter glanced up, "are you alright"

Molly nodded and flashed her mother the tiniest nervous smile.

"I'm fine," she said quietly.

Alex watched her daughter turn back to the screen as the annoying woiman continued to waffle on.

_"James Keats was born in nineteen seventy to teenage parents. Sixteen year old Laura Keats was cast out of her family in shame after falling pregnant. She had met her boyfriend Jeffrey while both were taking their O Levels."_

"I'll show you the DI March one of these later," Kim threatened her, "It's all about him, his webcam and lewd acts with a cardboard cut-out of Nick Nailer."

Alex gagged a little and decided this would be a good time to retreat.

"Thank you but no thank you," she said as the programme played on.

"…_A teenage romance that quickly went sour, Jeffrey's family took in both the young baby James and his mother but the relationship faltered as he entered technical college to learn a trade in catering and the stressful life brought out his temper. When she was eighteen. Laura moved to East London with the young James Keats where they made a new life together. James knew little of his father growing up and never heard from him again."_

Alex left the room as the rest of Dispatches played away. So much progress had been made for one day and although there was a long way to go her heart felt just a little lighter. _Perhaps,_ she thought, _the truth really could set you free._

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: The next update will be two chapters posted together, hopefully either tomorrow or Monday. And, uh… that's kind of where the story really begins… *Hyped up author as over 1,000,000 words of A2A fic finally start drawing together…* :D**_


	37. Chapter 19, 1996: Here's Hell

**Chapter 19: 1996**

"Just a few days left until Christmas," Keats muttered to himself as he cut a neat line along the strip of wrapping paper, "not too early for a little surprise gift, is it Simon?" He smirked to himself as he took one of his pre-prepared strips of sellotape and used it to tape the wrapping paper into place before flawlessly folding the ends into points and sticking those down too. His neat and meticulous handwriting graced the Christmas tree-shaped label that he was about to attach;

"_Dear Simon, just a small gift to remind you of home this Christmas"_

His smirk grew as he used his last piece of carefully measured tape to stick down the label and looked at his neat package with pride. _Everything by the book – including present-wrapping._

He slipped the present into a brown envelope already labelled with Simon's name and title, then just for his own amusement tied it up with a frilly ribbon.

"I hope you like unorthodox presents, Simon," he smiled to himself as he picked up his keys and walked to the door, package under his arm, "I did think about aftershave or socks but thought you'd find this so much more interesting."

He made the journey to Fenchurch East and it didn't take long to get some passing chump to drop the parcel into reception where it was placed with the internal post._ Mole not required._ As long as it reached its target eventually that was all that mattered.

~xXx~

Simon trudged back to his office with the post under his arm and a slight sense of nausea. He'd made the mistake of visiting the canteen and thought he had chosen a fairly innocuous option of steak pie. In his hurry to sate his hunger he'd neglected to notice the '_and sprout'_ written in tiny text under the word 'steak'. He'd already consumed several mouthfuls when he started to realise that all was not what it seemed and that steak wasn't usually green and leafy. He had to admit that Gene had the right idea by staying well away.

Arriving back in his office he plopped the post down on the desk and sat back, watching Eddie attempting to pursue someone with mistletoe outside of the door. He had to feel sorry for the guy. All Eddie seemed to want was to enjoy a bit of an inter-dimension affair and so far the closest he'd even come to sharing a snog was when Bammo drew a fake lipstick mark on his tie one night in Bask.

The phone rang and Simon sighed instinctively. He was fairly sure he was due another toastercide incident and didn't really want to answer the phone to someone with thousands of volts running through them courtesy of a viciously fired pop tart.

"Yes?" he sighed into the receiver.

A smug laugh responded.

"_Merry Christmas, Simon,"_ Keats's vice greeted him.

"You're six days early, bugger off," said Simon.

"_Raindrops on roses?"_

Simon had been a moment away from hanging up but Keats's random offering stalled him for a moment.

"You what?"

"_Whiskers on kittens?"_

Simon closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. He'd flipped. He'd completely flipped. He'd been going that way since his coma, what with the bee impressions and all. Now he'd lost the plot.

"Thank you for your call, Julie Andrews," he began, "but I've got work to do."

"_What am I saying?"_ Keats pretended to sound self-deprecating, "_sorry, I meant brown paper packages tied up with string. Or with ribbon, in this case."_

Simon froze as his eyes moved to the package that sat on top of the post. He swallowed. He hadn't even had a chance to look at the damn thing yet.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded stiffly.

"_Those are a few of my favourite things,"_ Keats concluded his slightly off-beat verse, _"but I bet they won't be yours, Simon. Tell you what, why don't you open your present now? Only a few days early. Come on, live a little. Not like anyone's going to slap your wrists for it, is it?"_

Simon dropped the phone back on the hook. He'd heard enough from Keats. He couldn't listen to that cryptic shit any longer. But that package now sat taunting him. He knew he was going to regret it if he opened it – Keats's 'gifts' so far hadn't exactly been a barrel of laughs – but somehow he couldn't fight the urge to see what was inside. He had to know.

Swallowing back his nerves he reached out and grabbed the parcel, struggling with the stupid ribbon that Keats had seen fit to adorn the outside of the package with. When it became clear that Keats was a master of wrapping and that he wasn't going to get the damn thing untied he grabbed a pair of scissors from his desk and snipped it away instead.

He slid his finger under the end of the envelope and opened it up, then took the gift-wrapped surprise out from inside. It rattled slightly. For a moment he worried that it might explode but he realised that Keats would most probably want front row seats to something like that so he assumed that as long as he wasn't lurking nearby then it was probably safe.

He threw a cursory glance at the label on the wrapped item, then discarded the wrapping paper. Inside were two audiotapes and some paperwork. He picked up one of the tapes and stared at the label.

_Marriage Guidance: P & M Shoebury_

Simon felt his heart flip-flop inside his chest as he read that. P and M; clearly his parents' initials. He felt his hands start shaking as he held it and carried on staring. He thought back to his early childhood and the rift that had broken out between his parents at one point. All he'd known about it at the time was that one of them suspected the other of cheating but his parents had never explained to him what actually happened and he never felt able to ask.

"Shit," he whispered. Where the fuck was Keats even getting this stuff? All his family's dirty little secrets. He must have been collecting them up for some time. Weeks? Months? What was the point of this stupid little game? So his parents had difficulties in their relationship – who didn't? He was surprised that Keats hadn't uncovered the detention he'd once served for accidentally liberating the class hamster at school too.

Oh god, he knew this was a mistake. He knew that listening to the tape was only ever going to lead to regret. But he didn't seem to be very good at regulating his choices when he knew that something was bad for him these days. He stood up and quickly closed the door and the blinds, then took the radio cassette recorder form the window ledge and stood it on his desk. He slipped the tape into the slot and pressed play before he could stop himself, when he closed his eyes, pressed his hands together and prayed to a god he didn't believe in that whatever he heard wasn't going to be as bad as his mind was telling him it would be.

~x~

"_Alright, Paul, why don't you start today? How have you been feeling since our last session?_

There was an audible sigh on the tape.

"_How do you think I've been feeling? Knowing the truth just made me feel worse, not better."_

"_Have you had any contact between sessions?"_

"_Only to see the kids."_

"_And Marie?"_ Silence, _"how have you felt since our last session?"_ More silence. _"Have you been sleeping any better?"_ There didn't seem to be anything his mother wanted to say. _"You need to talk if either of you are going to get anything out of this session, Marie."_

"_I feel like a bitch_." Simon hadn't heard his mother's voice since he was five years old. He couldn't remember what it sounded like. And now, the first time that he'd heard it since he was so young, _that_ was what he heard from her. _"I feel like an absolute bitch. Just the same way I've felt since the night it happened, except now it's even worse because I'm not just feeling guilty about what I did… I'm feeling ten times as guilty for hiding it for years too."_

"_It was your choice, Marie."_

"_What choice did I have, Paul?"_ now there were tears filtering in through her words, _"I hated myself for what I'd done and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I was so terrified of losing you. I love you too much for that to happen."_

"_But not enough to keep your knickers on."_

"_Paul!"_

"_This isn't going to get either of you anywhere. These sessions are here for you to work through what's happened calmly and rationally, not to descend into another argument. You both agreed at our last meeting that's been getting you nowhere. Has it?"_

"_No."_

"_No."_

"_So let's try talking individually again. Last week through that method you were both able to finally feel that your feelings had been heard. Paul, now that you've had a week to think about what Marie said and now that you've heard her side of the story spelt out calmly have your feeling changed?"_

A long pause.

"_Define 'changed'?"_

"_Do you feel that you are more likely to be able to overcome this? Can you understand why it happened?"_

"_Understand why it happened?"_

"_Paul, try to stay calm."_

"_I am calm!"_

"_Calmer than this."_ A pause. _"How have your feelings changed since the whole truth came out?"_

Silence.

"_I'm torn."_

"_OK, that's a start… torn between what, Paul?"_

"_Torn… between something approaching relief that it wasn't an affair…it was just one night… fuelled by drink…"_ a pause. "_And between feeling… disgusted that she had it in her to act that way with a couple of drinks inside her."_

"_Paul, I would never have –"_

"_Marie, this is Paul's turn to talk."_

"_That's all I had to say anyway."_

Simon became aware of a large block of anguish building in his throat. It wasn't going anywhere and was threatening to choke him. He couldn't remember breathing in the last few minutes at all.

"_Are you sure?"_ Silence "_Alright, and Marie?"_

A pained sigh.

"_What?"_

"_How have your feelings changed from last week?"_

More silence.

"_I'm angrier."_

"_Angrier? With whom? Yourself? Paul?"_

"_My bloody family… the ones who got us all in trouble in the first place. If Jess and the… whole… peeing on a tramp incident hadn't happened then I would never have ended up on my own with the rest of my family locked up for the night and nowhere to go. I would never… never have gone home with someone… someone I didn't know…"_

"_No one made you fuck the bastard though!"_

That was enough. Simon couldn't take another word. He struck the 'stop' button so hard he thought it might snap off and ran his fingers through his hair while breathing heavily. Anger, devastation and resentment started to build up inside of him as he jumped to his feet and paced up and down. How could his mother have _done_ that? To his dad, to her kids, to her family? And how could they have covered it up and never told the truth? Was it shame? Embarrassment?

"_Fuck,"_ he cried, desperate to unhear what he'd just been listening to.

The files from the package still lay undisturbed on the desk along with a second tape. He'd heard enough from his parents' counselling for one day, he wasn't going to touch that tape with a fifty foot pole. With a shaking hand he lifted up the papers and read the front page;

_Marriage Guidance Council: Notes from case FEN009341_

_Mr. P. S. Shoebury & Mrs M A Shoebury_

_Issues pinpointed: Infidelity (Mrs); 'One night stand' following heavy consumption of alcohol and arrest for drunk & disorderly; trust issues, secrecy, question over paternity of child #3, (Mr) wishing to seek divorce_

Simon's heart was crushed inside his chest as those words sank in. He felt his legs go from beneath him as he crumpled to the floor, everything he thought he knew about his family in tatters_._

Keats had never needed to take his soul. With a tape and a few sheets of paper He'd already shown him the meaning of hell.


	38. Chapter 20, 2011: Impossible Possibility

**Chapter 20: 2011**

The night had taken a very unexpected turn for Alex and Molly. Although there was much work to be done they had started to rebuild their relationship and to share the truth about Alex's situation. Alex knew it was almost impossible for Molly to truly comprehend but at least she was trying.

She left Kim and Molly alone to watch Keats's episode of _Dispatches. _Part of the reason was because she couldn't stomach sitting through it for a second time, but also she had a feeling this was something that Molly perhaps needed Kim to guide her through. After all, the programme only told of Keats's life in the real world, which Alex by turn knew very little about. When she heard the programme go off through the wall she waited for Molly to return but a fairly lengthy chat seemed to be going on between in them in the lounge. Alex started to become a little concerned and curious so she crept out of her bedroom to listen. She heard a couple of snatches –

"…_That's how he knew Evan and how come he went to his house first –"_

"…_I knew him from the other place. He was kind of obsessed with me and that's why he cut my hair, trying to make me look like I did when I was there –"_

"…_He traced Simon through his counselling session and when Simon went to visit your mother that's how he ended up in her room –"_

Quietly Alex tiptoed back to her own room, realising that these were all things she didn't know very much about – and more than that she wasn't quite ready to know either. Perhaps it was better that Kim and Molly had the conversation alone.

Eventually Molly returned to the room. She'd been crying but she gave her mother the first smile Alex had seen from her since the truth came out and departed with a hug. It was a hundred times more than Alex had expected, and as she waved her daughter goodbye that night she felt better and brighter than she had in a very long time.

That night she slept soundly, not even bothered by dreams of Manchester or helping Gene to find peace in the living world. She awoke to an empty flat for the first time since leaving hospital. There was a note on the table along with a couple of croissants –

"_Enjoy your first day of peace and quiet, think of us battling with weird desks and cardboard cut outs. Hope breakfast is OK, see you tonight – R&K"_

Alex sat down at the kitchen table, pulled a croissant onto the empty late they'd left out for her and gave a peaceful smile. She was winning the battle. She was getting stronger. This was a big step in the right direction for her. She knew that before long she would be up to making that journey to Manchester and finding a way to help Gene finally find peace.

~xXx~

It was actually strange for Robin and Kim to be heading to work together. It had been almost two weeks and something they had missed. Of course Kim could have done without Robin having 'morning sickness' in the car and expressing his intention to create a tuna/baked bean/biscuit combo at some point, but sharing the journey together again still brightened both their days.

Unfortunately for Robin Kim wasn't the only one who'd noticed his strange symptoms and behaviour in recent weeks. His colleagues had spotted his frequent trips to the gents, the scent of baked beans always hanging around his office and his changing physique and had affectionately nicknamed him '_Preggy Thomas'_, a name which was usually met by a cry of "_Why are you being so horrible to me_?" and a flood of tears.

Just after eleven that morning Robin paid his forth visit of the day to the toilets. On his skinny frame his swollen stomach made him look about four or five months gone and a passing sergeant couldn't help but notice. He sniggered, poked Robin in the belly and asked,

"When's it due, Sir?"

"About the same time as your P45!" Robin cried, fleeing into the toilets, in danger of crying again.

It was getting too much. It was all getting far too much and far too embarrassing. He'd been reading everything he could lay his hands on about hysterical pregnancies ever since Kim brought up the subject and although she had majorly backtracked on the idea for Robin it had become a somewhat distressing and embarrassing explanation for what he was going through. The only problem was that the more he read, the more symptoms he found himself developing. It was a vicious cycle.

When he finally stopped hiding in the toilets and went back to his office he sat down, pulled out a file and began to read, trying to take his mind off of the situation, when all of a sudden he felt something strange. He froze, his eyes bolting as his hand flew to his stomach. He swallowed hard as fear raged through his veins and then, without stopping to think, he grabbed the phone and dialled Kim's extension.

"_Stringer, CID?"_

"Kim!" Robin cried, "I need to see you now!"

He heard her clear her throat on the line.

"_Uh, Rob, that's always good to hear, but this isn't time for a quick bunk-up in the lavs."_

"No!" cried Robin, "I need you down here now – something awful's happened!"

He could hear Kim breathe in sharply.

"_I'm on my way," _she said.

X

All the way down to Robin's office Kim panicked and thought about worst case scenarios. Was Robin hurt? Was he ill? Had Nailer escaped again? Had he lost his X-Files DVDs?

"Robin," she cried as she burst into his office in a panic, "what's the matter?" what's wrong?"

Robin sat at his desk looking pained and anxious. There was sweat on his brow.

"Something awful's happened!" he cried.

"You said that," Kim rushed to him, "what's going on?"

Robin indicated his belly.

"I felt it kick!" he cried.

Kim frowned.

"Who kicked you?"

"The baby!"

Kim felt as though someone had hit her on the head with a comedy frying pan. Either that or there was a hidden camera somewhere and Noel Edmonds was about to jump out with a Gotcha Oscar.

"What baby?"

"My baby!" cried Robin, "the one in here!" he rubbed his stomach and watched Kim rolling her eyes.

"There is no baby!" she cried

"Yeah, I know we thought it was all in my head…"

"_You_ thought, Rob. _You_ thought. Which I know was kind of my fault, but…"

"…But there really is a baby in there!" he cried.

"There isn't!"

"Oh yeah? Well what do you call that then?" he cried dramatically, grabbing her hand and pressing it against him.

Kim hesitated as she felt something moving.

"Robin, I call that the double helping of beans on toast you had for breakfast," she said with a sigh, "you've got wind again and it's looking for an escape route."

"Beans don't kick!"

"That's _not a baby!"_ Kim cried, a little maniacally by now. She stopped, closed her eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths. Her frustration wasn't exactly helping. "Listen, here's what you need to do," she began patiently, "take the rest of the day off sick, go to the chemist, buy some wind-eze and go to bed. And make sure you buy some air freshener on the way home."

Robin looked at her with hurt in his eyes.

"I can't believe you're treating the mother of your child this way," he said.

Kim groaned, hauled him to his feet and grabbed his jacket.

"Here," she said, "Go home. Get some rest. Take some tablets. And whatever you do, don't go reading any mpreg fan fiction without my supervision. I don't want you getting any more ideas."

As she gently but firmly shoved him towards the door she wondered what the price of an intense course of therapy was going to be, because there was no doubt about it now – she'd screwed Robin's brain up good and proper.

~xXx~

Alex was surprised to find her day of peace and quiet cut short by a returning, red-faced Robin. When she asked him what was wrong he'd mumbled something about baked beans and babies and skulked off to his bedroom carrying a chemist's bag. She decided it was best not to ask.

The weekend that followed was certainly more relaxing than the one before. There were no strange time phenomena, no fishy biscuits and the margarine stayed exactly where it was supposed to be. After their serious talk on Thursday night Alex and Molly had made some substantial progress. While Alex was still not sure how much of her story Molly believed – or was _willing_ to believe – the fact that Alex had finally trusted her enough to be honest with her had made a real difference between them and Molly once again treated her mother with respect. She had even gone to spend Sunday afternoon visiting Molly to meet her foster family which allowed Kim and Robin some well-needed private time in which nothing kicked and no beans were consumed.

In fact, as Monday morning arrived everyone felt better, brighter and more positive than they had in a long while. Alex's head was clearer to focus on her dilemma about Gene's identity, Robin and Kim had been able to share some quality time together and Molly no longer felt as though everyone was lying to her.

But sometimes one day can flip your whole world upside down.

~xXx~

Kim made a mental checklist of everything on her desk to make sure nothing had appeared or disappeared over the weekend.

"Mouse mat_ – check, _photo frame_ – check. _Picture of Jarvis Cocker_ – Ch-what?"_

She reeled in horror as she examined what she thought was a random picture of Pulp's frontman but turned out to be a photograph of Malcolm. "Shit, what, am I getting heirlooms from everyone who's ever had this desk?" she gagged. She picked up the photograph and flipped it over _'Bask; August 1995,' _it said.

She shuddered and dropped the picture into the bin. It was all she could do not to throw up at the memory of _those_ purple velvet trousers.

"Stringer," Kim glanced up to see DCI Huston beside her desk.

"Yes sir?" she said. She noticed his expression was grim and serious. She wasn't late, was she? She thought she was early. She checked her watch to make sure but the damn thing seemed to have stopped. _Shit_ – another thing to replace. Usually Robin was the one who had trouble with watches. "Is something wrong?"

Huston held a file in his hands. He seemed to swagger slightly from side to side, in two minds whether to go ahead with his sentence or not. Eventually he drew in his breath and said,

"This is highly confidential at this stage, and I shouldn't be showing you." He hesitated as Kim's expressions froze, worried by his words, "but considering your unique position in this situation I thought that it was only fair that you should see this before DI Drake is approached with this information through official channels. But remember that this didn't come from me," he laid the file on her desk, "and please remind Chief Inspector Thomas that this didn't come from me either."

Kim stared at him, speechlessly, as he walked away into his office and shut the door behind him. She stared, a little open mouthed, and looked from his closed office door to the file in front of her. Her mind ran over a thousand scenarios, trying to work out what was inside of it but none of them came close to what she found as she pulled together her courage and opened up the papers before her. Her eyes ran down the screeds of information, trying to make some semblance of sense of the science and medical jargon she was seeing until one line summed up succinctly what all the jargon above had tried to explain in their own long-winded way. Her stomach dropped through the floor and her heart seemed to stop in her chest. The words before her made no sense, they just didn't. Her hands began to shake. She didn't know if they would ever stop.

~xXx~

Robin hadn't expected the cautious knocking on his office door, nor Kim's face to appear around the side.

"Hey," he smiled, "I was just thinking about you." He was about to ask her about various frivolous things – whether she wanted to go Christmas shopping that evening, when she wanted to wrap what they'd got so far – but the expression on her face stopped him in his tracks. "What? What is it?" the last time she'd come to see him with _that_ look she'd been carrying printouts about hysterical pregnancy. He was understandably concerned.

"Rob, you need to see this," her tone was serious and shaken.

"Kim, what's wrong?" he started to get to his feet.

"No, stay where you are," Kim said quietly, "I think you'll want to be sitting down for this."

His worry increased as she walked towards him, pulled up a spare chair and sat directly in front of him. She set the file in her lap and reached for his hands which she held gently then looked right into his eyes.

"What is it?" he whispered, "you're shaking, Kim."

"Rob, DCI Huston just spoke to me," she said quietly, "he gave me this file. He made a big fuss about it being confidential." She bit her lip. She could hardly bring herself to go on. "It's about Alex's baby," her voice shook a little, "the DNA testing." She took a deep breath. "They've found a partial match."

Robin's expression was blank and confused.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Kim swallowed as she tried to stop the words from sticking in her throat, "that after they found no matches for the baby's father they started attempting to find partial matches, familial matches, looking for close relatives in the hope that it would lead them to the – well, as they put it, the '_attacker_'." She closed her eyes. "And they found one."

Robin stared on. Kim's words went right over his head; they had no meaning to him.

"But that's impossible," he said, "we know Gene's got no family –"

Kim shook her head quickly.

"There's more, Robin," she said quickly before he had a chance to end up on a tangent. Her whole face was full of strain, "you need to see who it is."

Slowly she picked up the file from her lap and handed it to him. He took it nervously, not sure he really wanted to know what was inside. Finally he opened the file and his eyes scanned the information, trying to find the revelation that had shaken Kim so deeply. As soon as his eyes settled upon it, as much as it had affected Kim it shook Robin a hundred times more deeply.

"_Shit,"_ he breathed as the colour drained from his face. He felt Kim's hand on his knee, squeezing it tightly, trying to keep him grounded.

"Rob? Are you alright?"

He swallowed and stared at the paper. It didn't make any sense to him.

"This is… this is just impossible," he shook his head, "it doesn't… I mean…"

"I know," Kim said quickly, "I know.

Robin just stared at the worlds, hoping that they would change or suddenly become more logical but they just stared back, defying him. He swallowed as his insides turned and churned.

"What do we do now?" he whispered.

"We'll have to tell Alex," said Kim, "she needs to hear it from us first."

Robin nodded, his eyes not moving from the paper for a moment.

"Shit," he whispered again. He took a gulp of air. "God, I feel sick."

"Me too," Kim whispered.

Robin finally moved his eyes from the file and met Kim's which were just as wide and scared as his own.

"I don't understand this Kim," he whispered.

Kim shook her head.

"Neither do I." she said. She watched Robin shake and shiver before her. "I think we should go home, Rob," she said quietly, "we need to talk to her now."

Robin nodded slowly. There was no point staying where they were, stressing and worrying about what was going on. And with no idea when Alex was going to be officially approached, the sooner they told her the better.

Together they stood up and left the station. Neither were in the best shape to drive but finally Kim took the keys, her hands slightly more steady than Robin's. The drive home was almost completely silent, filled only with occasional expletives. There seemed to be nothing else to say. The file had spoken of nonsense and neither really knew how to express what was going through their minds.

~xXx~

Alex hadn't been expecting the door to open and she jumped a little. One minute she'd been investigating Robin's well-stocked fridge of leftovers to seek out something for lunch and the next her peace and quiet was over again.

"I hope you're not checking up on me," she said as she peered out into the hallway, adding silently, _or that Robin's got more pregnancy symptoms to nurse._ But the looks on their faces stopped her in her tracks.

"Alex," Robin's voice was low and anxious, "we need to talk to you."

Alex swallowed as her heart started to speed up.

"From the looks on your faces I'll assume you're not about to elope to Gretna Green," she said.

"Can you sit down ma'am?" Kim said quietly.

Those words worried Alex even more.

"Of course, she whispered, finding her way to a chair. She watched as they sat down around her, Robin clinging to a file.

"There's been some news," he began quietly, "the DNA testing. They came up with a partial match… someone who shares enough DNA that they are likely to be a close blood relative of the baby's father."

Of all the things that they could have said, this was the one that Alex had not been expecting. Her eyes opened wide as she whispered,

"that's not possible… I mean, we only just found out Gene's family line died out a long time ago."

Kim and Robin looked at each other for moral support and strength to continue.

"I wish that was as strange as it got, Ma'am, but it's not," Kim said quietly.

Alex looked up anxiously as Robin placed the file into her lap.

"You need to see this," he said quietly, "you need to see the match they found."

Alex felt herself shaking as she picked up the file she wasn't sure she wanted to open it. She didn't know if she could handle whatever was on the inside. If it had shaken Kim and Robin to such a degree then what was it going to do to her?

"Please?" Kim's voice urged her, "you have to look."

Alex breathed in deeply as she felt a little movement inside of her. She found her hands trembling as she finally found the courage to open up the file. She tried to make sense of what she was reading but she wasn't as familiar with the scientific side of the jargon as she wished she was. Most of it appeared to resemble gobbledygook. But right at the bottom of the page was the sentence that brought home the realisation of what had caused Kim and Robin to feel so anxious.

One fact killed all the sense of the world half-dead.

"_Familial database searching has concluded that the DNA of the following strongly resembles the DNA profile sought in this case and there is a high probability that this individual is a close blood relative of the _attacker:"

Typed below that line was one name.

_DCI Simon Shoebury_


	39. Chapter 20, 1996: Bah Humbugs

**Chapter 20: 1996**

Simon sat in silence. He'd spent most of the afternoon and evening in silence. After discovering that his mother had been unfaithful and his family had almost crumbled around his ears, there wasn't much to say. The telephone on his desk had rung time and again but he'd ignored it. He felt sure it was going to only be one of two possibilities anyway – either Keats calling to taunt him some more or another toaster-related death. He didn't have the stomach for either of those options.

He spent many hours just thinking, torturing himself with every detail of the taped session as it played over and over through his mind. He couldn't seem to stop it. He felt as though his insides were twisting around, his skin was crawling with horror and his mind was going into meltdown. He knew so little of his mother anyway but now the idealised picture he'd held in his mind for all those years had become tainted and tattered in one easy step.

Eventually he stormed from the station with a hot head, bought himself a bottle of scotch in dimensions of size that even Gene would have been envious of and went home where he closed himself away in his bedroom to blot out the day. He wanted to drink himself into enough of a stupor that the tape and the file would disappear from his memory but having Gene as a houseguest had been steadily upping his tolerance for scotch and he found it wasn't having the desired effect.

"Damn this," he slammed his glass down and got to his feet, pacing around his room once again. He didn't want to leave the confines of his room. He knew Gene was watching some documentary about mutant arses or something out in the lounge and he didn't want to have to explain why he was in such a state. Gene had tried to lure him out by pretending that there was an X-Files special about sentient toasters on but it had done no good so he'd left Simon where he was. He was becoming increasingly used to Simon's miserable moping anyway. It seemed to be a more frequent occurrence these days.

Simon took from his drawer the photocopies he'd made of the family album and turned them over one at a time. He knew this was another step he was going to regret but he felt driven to do it. He could see the papers shaking as his hands trembled. A line from the marriage guidance file came back to haunt him; _Question over paternity of child #3_. He had always been the odd one out in his family. It was a running joke. He knew that he didn't look like his father, or very much like his sisters for that matter, but he supposed he simply took more after his mother. She had the same curls that he did, although she didn't blowdry them within an inch of their life to make them go away in the same way that he did.

He stared at a photograph of his father; his darker hair and short stature a world away from Simon's. How much did that really mean? Just because he had fair hair did that necessarily mean that the man he'd called dad all his life was anything but?

Eventually the photographs just taunted him further and he threw them back in the drawer before he did something he would regret. He wanted to tear them to pieces, but that would leave him with nothing again, no family memories to hold onto. As the hours passed and the level of scotch in the bottle reduced he came to realise he wasn't going to get any sleep that night unless he took drastic action. While hitting himself over the head with an oversized mallet did come to mind he chose the tranquiliser route, knowing full well that he shouldn't be taking them with alcohol but not even caring.

The pill did the trick and knocked him out for hours. When he awoke with the sun streaming through his open curtains he found himself sprawled out faced-down on his bed, still fully clothed, with a head that felt like there was some sort of heavy metal concert going on inside of it. It took him several minutes to scrape himself up onto his feet and skulk out of his room.

He was obviously late. Gene had already gone to work and the bin men had been. He groaned and wished that he'd just gone for the tranquilisers right away, leaving the scotch well alone. Cut out the middle man. He reached for the Alka Seltzer and made a strong black coffee. With or without a hangover, he didn't know how he was going to face the day ahead.

~xXx~

Gene thought he had the monopoly on being miserable this Christmas, he really did. But it seemed that his colleagues and team respected him so much they decided to follow in his noble footsteps of depression. He knew Simon was already in a sulk and whatever was getting to him was something he wasn't ready to talk about, then on arrival at Fenchurch East he saw Eddie mooching around with an expression he hadn't seen on anyone since someone had accidentally spilled coffee on Simon's Craig Charles autograph.

"Alright, there's only room for one Scrooge here," He boomed as he marched down the corridor, "I am ordering you bunch of smacked arses to cheer up by the end of today or you'll all be spending Christmas working on Shoebury's toastercide files.

He marched to his office and slammed the door behind him. He stood still for a few moments, just breathing in and out and trying to work out what to do. It was an uncharacteristically quiet period – perhaps all the dealers, murderers and psychos were doing their Christmas shopping, he decided. Without a great deal of work to be done there was little to take his mind off the fact that there were only a few days left until Christmas and he would be spending it without Alex for the first time in a decade and a half.

Even before they were together they'd spent Christmas together. Not on purpose admittedly – a dead prozzie and a Reindeer-rustling ring had brought them together on Christmas days in 1981 and 1982 respectively but in the years after that they had always woken up together on Christmas morning, even if by the end of the day they were up to their elbows in photographs of suspects.

This year he was going to be up to his elbows in turkey innards without Bolly.

"Shit. The bloody turkey." He remembered the duty he was supposed to be performing that Christmas day. _Bollocks._ "Unless I get possessed by the crazy coking monster again then Christmas is going to be a toasted sandwich affair," he muttered. He walked slowly to the window and stared out into the car park, right at the spot where Alex had vanished. He closed his eyes. He couldn't stand to stare at that spot for long. "What you doing right now, Bolly?" he muttered. He tried to imagine what going home would have been like for her. Who was going to be waiting for her? He tried to comfort himself in the knowledge that her daughter would have been there when she awoke but knowing deep down that Alex had chosen himself over Molly it was little comfort. He wasn't looking at it from a big-headed point of view but he knew that Alex had wanted to stay just as much as he'd wanted her to.

A fleeting thought of the life he was supposed to have had by now went through his mind. It should have been the first Christmas in which Alex would have been _Mrs Hunt, _and his first Christmas as a father.

"Bollocks," he shook his head to get rid of those thoughts before they led him back to the scotch and wild nights of passionate embraces with the plant pots in the car park.

The door of his office opened. Something resembling a zombie walked in.

"Bloody hell, Shoebury, is that you?" he took a step backwards, "only yer eyes look like you've gone three rounds with an off-licence."

Simon wasn't in the mood.

"Do you want a latte or not?" he asked.

"You need to treat the subject of the morning latte with more respect than that," said Gene, "it's a thing of beauty. Unlike you."

"I'll take that as a yes," he mumbled, turning to leave the room.

"Simon."

Simon froze on the spot. He didn't want to turn around. He couldn't face the bollocking. But he had little choice.

"What, Gene?"

"I'd ask if you were alright but yer eyes already told me the answer to that so I'll save me breath and go straight to the point," said Gene, "You gonna tell me what the matter is or am I going to have to shove that beautifully decorated tree where the sun doesn't shine?"

Simon looked down.

"Family stuff," he mumbled.

"You'd better not be paying visits to the Shoebury household," Gene frowned,.

"After last time?" Simon rubbed his back, still remembering the filing cabinet bruises, "never again."

"So what's eating yer sci-fi brain now?"

Simon shook his head slowly.

"I guess… it's just Christmas, you know," it seemed like an easy lie. Very plausible and one that needed little explanation.

Gene nodded.

"Fair enough," he said, "but listen, if you're going to pickle yerself can you at least wait until Christmas eve? Got to leave enough scotch to leave out for Santa to get a good measure."

"Offering bribes now?" Simon mumbled half-heartedly.

"Need _someone_ to bring me my bloody Dipsy," Gene told him. Simon assumed he was being his usual sarcastic self but the serious look on his face told Simon that he was deadly serious. It seemed that his acquisition of a Buzz Lightyear courtesy of Alex the year before had given him a taste for collecting the 'in' presents every Christmas, with the apparent intention of pissing off his nearest and dearest. Simon decided it was best to make a quick getaway before Gene roped him into a tour of toy shops in the hope of picking one up.

"Got to go and sort out a copycat killing," he said, "the fridges are getting in on the act now. Bloody cold-hearted killers."

Gene sighed and rubbed his head as he watched the walking hangover leave his office.

"The only Christmas spirit Fenchurch East is going to see this year will be if someone sticks a sprig of holly in the top of me bottle of scotch," he said.

~xXx~

Despite his own worries Simon couldn't help but look at Eddie in concern as he passed him in the corridor. His face looked so pale that he might as well have been imitating a snowman and his eyes were practically hollow.

"Everything OK?" he asked as he walked by.

"Yeah. No." Eddie shook his head. "Just stuff."

Simon sighed.

"Bloody 'stuff'," he said, "too much of that going around." Eddie didn't even crack a smile. "Seriously, Eddie, what's wrong?"

Eddie looked at Simon and recalled their conversation in Latte Land just a couple of weeks before. He remembered finally getting to talk about the whole concept of where he was; back in time, in a strange world. It had really helped him at the time, and he thought seriously about talking to him again but Simon's bloodshot eyes told him that the man had worries of his own to think about.

"Really, sir, I'm fine," he said, turning his eyes back down to some files in his hand to call a halt to any conversation that might have followed.

"Are you sure?" asked Simon. He watched Eddie nod but didn't believe that for a moment. "Well, if you need to talk –"

"Sure," Eddie cut him off, "thanks, sir."

He looked away and waited until Simon had passed before exhaling and leaning against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment. Christmas eve was only days away now. _The _Christmas Eve. All those years ago he'd lost his best friend and now it was going to happen all over again.

"Does it have to?" he whispered to himself.

That was the first time that he'd really thought about it. Could it be that there was a way to stop it happening? This weird and ridiculous situation had to be happening for a reason – was that it? Was it possible to change history?

His heart started to race as he thought about the possibilities. He wasn't sure any more how real – or otherwise – this strange place really was but maybe if he could find a way to stop his friend from dying then he'd find his key to waking up back home.

There had to be a reason, there just had to, and he didn't think that reason was to supply lattes to half the population of Fenchurch East. Just maybe this was it – his reason. His purpose.

For the first time since he arrived in this world he felt his heart really start to race and home felt a little closer.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: First of all, one step forward and two back – I now have the flu :P So any nonsensical writing or crappy editing (or not writing) is due to having an even fuzzier head than usual :P**_

_**Secondly, I didn't want to add any notes yesterday because I just wanted the chapters to speak for themselves, but a massive cheer for Oceancounty who had this figured out way back when I was writing Whispering Her Name! And Noemi, well done for suspecting as well! Do you know how weird it is to actually finally have the secret pretty much out after 20 months and over 1,000,000 words of A2A fic writing? Although of course there's a lot more to it than that :D We're only about halfway through the story… oh yeah, and it's almost Christmas, again… didn't we just have one of those? Well, at least we're not the ones eating endless turkey this time. (Probably wouldn't want to eat any of Gene's either. I'm thinking tuna stuffing :P)**_

_**I will stop rambling now and post the damn chapter already!**_


	40. Chapter 21, 2011: Rogue Genes

**Chapter 21: 2011**

It felt as though no one was ever going to speak again. There really didn't seem to be any words in existence to express the shock radiating through the room. Alex laid the papers down so that Kim and Robin couldn't see how badly she was trembling. There is was; the strangest piece of nonsense she had ever heard in her life, all typed out clearly for them to see. Her eyes ran over the final lines again and again but they didn't change, nor did they begin to make any semblance of sense.

"This isn't possible." It was a clear five minutes before she finally spoke and as soon as she did it was as though she broke the spell that was holding the room hostage as both Robin and Kim seemed to shake themselves from their silence too.

"We know," Kim said quietly, "we are just as confused as you are."

"There has to have been a mistake," Alex spoke firmly as though it was a statement, not a question, "there must have been a mix-up… wrong samples or something."

"It looks as though they've run the comparison more than once to make sure there was no mistake," Kim said quietly. She'd re-read the text of the document several times, just trying to make sense of it, and taken in as much as she was able to understand. Forensics weren't exactly her forte.

"Simon… he did have _family_ in Manchester," Robin said quietly, "he never knew them, there was a big falling out before he was born but his mother was originally from there. Maybe –"

"His mother?" Kim repeated. Robin nodded. "No, that can't be the connection then."

"Why not?" frowned Robin.

Kim pointed to a line of test.

"There are two types of DNA," she said, "Nuclear DNA and Mitochondrial DNA. The Nuclear DNA is passed on from both your mother and father, but mitochondrial DNA is only passed on from your mother's side. They ran the test with both. Only nuclear DNA was a match. The link had to come through his father's side."

"Simon's father has always lived in London," said Robin, "in fact, generations going way back have always lived around here. There was some family reunion a few years back, there were so many of them they had to reunite in 'shifts' because they all lived nearby."

"Even if that wasn't the case it would still be pushing it," Kim pointed out, "look at the comments here. By close relative they mean something like a direct descendent; parent, child, maybe sibling – we're talking about a man who's been dead for sixty years and another who wasn't even born until nineteen seventy eight. There's just no way."

"Then it's got to be a mistake," Robin said.

"They don't seem to think so," Kim shook her head.

Alex had been extremely quiet while they had been talking. She finally stood up slowly as all eyes turned to her and said quietly,

"I think I need to lay down. Will you excuse me?"

Robin and Kim looked at one another, both knowing Alex was no more going to lie down than the cast of Balamory were going to appear in the kitchen and start doing a tap-dance routine.

"Are you aright, ma'am?" Kim asked anxiously.

Alex nodded, her stare not meeting anyone else's.

"I'm tired," she whispered as she left the room, abandoning the papers on the table.

Robin looked at Kim. His head was full of gobbledygook that made no sense.

"What the fuck is happening?" he whispered, "even if this was some kind of freaky coincidence, beating all the odds that two people had really similar DNA then what kind of fucking odds would they be that it would be Simon's DNA that came close?"

"I know, I know," Kim wished that she could say something to stop Robin from feeling so confused and disturbed by the findings but there was nothing she could offer him. "We both know that the chances of a familial match like this being a coincidence are way too long." She looked at him in concern. There was a look in his eyes she hadn't seen in a very long time. It wasn't just Alex that the strange result was going to affect but it was bringing back so much for Robin about his years spent with Simon and his loss. "Are you alright, Rob? I mean, _really_ alright?"

Robin honestly wasn't sure. He couldn't comprehend how such a thing could be happening.

"It's just… I can't get my head round this," he said quietly. He looked like a lost little boy. "Shit, Kim, can you imagine what's going to come from this? They're going to go after his family, getting them all in for DNA tests. His poor father… Kim, he's such a lovely man and he's been through so much. Now the police are going to arrive at his door with a job-lot of swabs to bloody test his DNA."

Kim breathed in deeply. There was a horrible burning feeling in her chest as bile rose inside her. She felt so terribly sick from the shock and while she was grateful that Huston had given her the opportunity to see the file first she also felt a little angry that the duty had fallen to her to tell both Robin and Alex. It didn't seem right.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked quietly. Robin's thoughts were too far away to respond so she took matters into her own hands and found his bottle of brandy in the cupboard. She poured him a large measure and sat it in front of him. He looked up, a little surprised. He hadn't even heard her ask the question. The smile he flashed her was grateful and gentle.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

She sat back down beside him and looked at him seriously.

"Whatever happens, we'll all be fine," she said quietly, "whatever kind of weird mix-up or… _temporal nonsense_ this is, we'll cope."

Robin nodded slowly, staring into his glass. He drew it to his lips and took a warming sip. There were too many thoughts swimming in his mind.

"I keep trying to imagine how something like this could ever have come up," he said, "but in the end all my mind keeps telling me is that it's not possible."

"I know," Kim said quietly. The same thought kept going round in her head too. They sat quietly at the table for several minutes before the telephone rang and as the slightly more coherent one of the three of them Kim answered it. She seemed to stay silent for a long time before she responded to the caller and eventually hung up. She turned to Robin, her face grim. "Looks like the inevitable is happening sooner than we thought," she said quietly, "they're on their way around to talk to Alex now."

"Shit," Robin shook his head, "I don't think she's ready for this."

"Not much that we can do about it," Kim said quietly. She paused. "Do you want to tell her or shall I?"

With reluctance Robin got to his feet.

"I'll tell her," he said quietly. As he passed her by he ran his fingers through Kim's hair, as though to reassure her that the subject of Simon coming to the fore didn't affect the way that he felt about her. He knew that it was still a worry in the back of her mind and he couldn't blame her for that – after all, _he_ still harboured worries that eventually she'd conclude that the love she felt for Shaz during her time in Gene's world was stronger than her feelings for him and that it would suddenly all be over between them. But despite being built on very strange foundations their relationship had become stronger and deeper than either had imagined it could become. They were certainly going to need each other to get through the latest turn in events, that was for certain.

~xXx~

Alex had heard the telephone ring. She knew inside what the call was about. She didn't need anyone to come and break the news. She was already checking her reflection in the mirror to blot away the tears that had run down her cheeks. As the door of her room opened and Robin peered around she turned around and gave a forced, tiny smile.

"It's alright Robin. I know," she said quietly, "they're coming to tell me, aren't they?"

Robin could only nod.

"I'm sorry, Alex," he said quietly, "They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Right," Alex nodded and reached for her make-up. She turned back to the mirror. "better get my mask on then."

"They're not expecting you in glamour-mode," Robin told her.

"I need something to hide behind," Alex admitted as she finished making up one eye. Before she could get to the other she looked back at Robin. Her expression had already lost some of its strength. "Is this really happening?"

Robin wished that he could say no. God, he wished more than anything that this was a joke or a hoax.

"I'm afraid so," he said quietly. He gave Alex a little smile and said, "I'll leave you in peace."

"Are you sure you don't want to borrow this yourself?" Alex held up her eyeliner and Robin closed his eyes with a tiny laugh.

"No, Kim banned me from wearing eyeliner again on account of me applying it better than she did," he joked, recalling one of their many cover-up stories about their relationship when Alex was not allowed any 'shocks'.

It seemed now that shocks were permitted. Today she'd had the shock to end all shocks.

~xXx~

_Bzzzzzzzzz_

"Sometimes you just don't want to hear that sound," Robin mumbled as he got up to answer the buzzer. He allowed the detectives to enter and awaited their arrival at his door. He was surprised to see DCI Huston arrive with two detectives he didn't know.

"Chief inspector Thomas," Huston began, "because of the circumstances Inspector Hamilton has allowed me to come on board with this case."

Robin nodded. It did seem sensible. Not only was Kim his DI but he had known Simon personally and even took over for him for a while after his server accident.

"Good to see you again," he said quietly, "shame about the circumstances."

"Quite," Huston looked highly uncomfortable. Robin stepped back and let the three detectives in. He wasn't sure where to take them – to Alex's room? The kitchen? The lounge? Finally he heard footsteps and looked around to see Alex emerging from her room with a false smile.

"Shall we go in here?" she said quietly, walking slowly to the lounge.

"Decision made," Robin muttered.

Alex tried to draw as much courage together as she could to face the conversation ahead. She knew that it wasn't going to be easy, nor would it be pleasant. She had to focus on getting through it as calmly as she could and to stay strong. She sat down in one of the arm chairs, trying to shut out from her mind how disturbed and confused she was feeling and to concentrate on getting rid of the detectives as quickly as possible. Robin and Kim gathered around her for moral support while the trio of detectives sat along the couch like a row of ducks.

"DI Drake," Huston began and Alex realised how strange it felt to be called Detective Inspector again. She'd been a DCI for so long in Gene's world that returning to her previous title felt surreal.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"I'm DCI Huston, and this is DI Hamilton and DS Manning."

Alex nodded politely. She'd met DI Hamilton, a rather formidable-looking woman with a severe ponytail, once or twice while in hospital as the '_investigation'_ had started.

"Hello," she said quietly.

Huston's eyes travelled to Kim and Robin momentarily.

"I'm guessing you're already aware of why I'm here?" he said.

Alex looked down. She nodded slowly.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"DI Hamilton will give you the official breakdown of the situation," Huston told her. He turned to the woman sat to his right who nodded and began,

"DI Drake, we found a partial DNA match. We had drawn a blank looking for a full match so we began an attempt to trace family members through familial DNA. Are you aware of what that means?"

"I seem to have had a crash course in it, yes," Alex said quietly.

"We found an extremely close match," DI Hamilton continued, "meaning that the DNA profile of the match is likely to be a member of the immediate family of the man who assaulted you in hospital."

Alex swallowed as looked away. _Assault._ That lie hurt her more every time someone used the word. She shook her head imperceptibly. It was an involuntary reaction.

"You are aware of the partial match that we found?" DCI Huston asked.

Alex nodded.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Now, Simon Shoebury… he was a friend of yours?" Hamilton asked.

Alex nodded.

"Yes." 

"And _your_ long term partner?" she looked at Robin who nodded.

"Yes."

"Did you ever meet his close family?" The DI asked Alex, "his father, for example?"

Alex felt sick as she realised where this was going.

"No, I didn't meet his family," she said.

"But _you_ must have known them well?" she asked Robin.

Robin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I think of them as my own family," he said.

Hamilton looked sheepish.

"I understand this is difficult for you too," she said, "but as the only lead we've had we have to follow this up."

"In what way exactly are you following it up?" Robin asked quietly.

"There are officers at Mister Shoebury's house," DS Manning spoke up for the first time, "they are taking DNA samples for testing."

"You absolutely cannot think that Simon's dad –" Robin began angrily but Huston cut him off.

"I do understand how awkward this is, believe me," he said quickly, "but this is a very serious crime and a very close DNA match."

"The kind of DNA that matches the generic profile of DI Drake's baby has come from the father's bloodline," Hamilton addressed Robin, "now, with the similarity we're seeing the likely connection would be between parent and child or between siblings. Simon didn't have any brothers, did he?"

Robin shook his head slowly, the colour draining from his face.

"No, just sisters," he said quietly.

"And no children?"

Robin shook his head again.

"No."

"Are you sure it couldn't be from extended family? Or a coincidence?" Kim asked, just hoping to take some of the pressure away from Simon's immediate family.

"The likelihood of that is infinitesimally small," said Hamilton, "and even so, we need to begin with the obvious before we look to the impossible."

Alex took a deep breath. The 'impossible' was what had got them into this situation in the first place.

"I don't want this investigation to continue," she said quietly.

The three detectives looked at her in surprise.

"DI Drake –"

"I've had enough," Alex shook her head, her voice shaking, "There's got to be a mistake somewhere along the line and now you're looking at innocent people and pointing the finger."

"DI Drake, you were assaulted in your hospital bed," Hamilton began sternly, "You're a detective. If you were speaking to another victim in your position what would you say to them?"

"My position isn't as clear as you'd like it to be!" Alex cried, "It's not going to do any good going after someone who has nothing to do with this."

"Until we get back the results of the DNA tests then we don't know whether he has anything to do with this or _not_," Hamilton told her firmly, "and if you think that there's a mistake and we have the wrong suspect then the DNA tests will clear them, won't they?"

"I want you to stop the testing."

"Ma'am," Kim began quietly, "she's got a point."

Alex looked at her in shock.

"What do you mean?"

"If you call things off now it's already too late… they're taking samples from Simon's dad _right now_. Even if they agree not to run the tests he'll never have a chance to prove his innocence."

Alex's eyes closed slowly as she listened to Kim's argument. She had a very logical head on her. She could see why she was rising through the ranks so quickly. With reluctance she nodded and whispered.

"Ok."

"OK?" repeated Hamilton.

"Carry on with the genetic testing. Then when any of Simon's family that have been subjected to this are put in the clear I want you to leave this alone."

Hamilton didn't look like she was going to drop the case that easily.

"Well let's see what the tests show first, shall we?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

Alex found herself narrowing her eyes at DI Hamilton. The dislike she felt towards the woman was growing by the minute. She was starting to feel an overwhelming urge to locate a filing cabinet somewhere and give the woman a taste of Gene's medicine. If he'd been there she was sure the inevitable would have occurred.

"Could you please leave now?" she said in slow, measured tones, trying to keep her temper, "It's been an upsetting day. I'd like to rest."

Hamilton stared at her for a while before she gave a deep sigh.

"Alright," she said, "we'll leave you in the hands of your friends. The results will be back within the next two days."

Alex watched wordlessly as the three unwelcome visitors stood up and Robin showed them to the door. The situation was going from bad to worse. It was bad enough living a lie and going along with the story that someone had taken advantage of her while she was in her coma, but now things had taken an entirely unexpected and disturbing turn. The fact that Simon's DNA had come up at all had been inexplicable, and now his family were going to be subjected to all manner of invasive questioning and testing.

She stayed silent as she watched Robin come back into the room and sink to the couch with his head in his hands. She couldn't help but feel guilty, even though she hadn't done anything wrong. She looked at his pale, distraught face.

"Simon's family," she began quietly, "are they going to be alright?"

Robin closed his eyes and gave a shrug that seemed to go slightly cock-a-hoop as he couldn't quite control his flailing limbs. His hands and shoulders pointed at bizarre angles as he said quietly,

"How would you feel if someone turned up on your doorstep and told you that your dead son was a close DNA match for a rape case and the family needed to be tested?" he shook his head, "this could just about finish that family off."

"Shit," Alex closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, running her fingers through her hair to push it away from her face as her cheeks burnt with shock and anxiety. "Robin, I'm sorry, I didn't expect anything like this would happen."

"It's not your fault, not at all," Robin shook his head, "some _fuckarse_ has screwed up and made a mistake, and now Simon's family are going to suffer."

"_Fuckarse?"_ Kim repeated. She knew the situation was serious but she wanted to remember that one. She cleared her throat and tried to get her mind onto more important matters. "Ma'am, is there… is there anything at all… that you can think of… that could explain this? Anything to do with going between worlds? I mean, I'm no scientist, and I don't know as much as you about the other place but can somehow DNA get mixed up on the way back or…?"

Alex shook her head slowly.

"Kim, I have no explanation for this at all. I don't know what to say. I just keep thinking here has to have been a mistake."

"Well when Simon's family are in the clear maybe they'll agree with you," Kim said quietly, "and find out what stupid slip up has caused this." she turned to Robin whose expression looked haunted. "Rob? Are you OK?"

Robin wasn't OK but didn't want to admit that.

"I should call Paul," he said quietly

"Paul?"

"Simon's dad."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Kim said softly, "they might still be round there."

"Shit, yes," Robin placed his palm across his head as it started aching, "you're right."

Silence fell and no one really knew how to break it. There seemed to be no way out of the situation and no words left to say. When several silent minutes had passed Alex stood up wordlessly and walked to her room, closing the door behind her. The impossible kicks in her belly reminded her just what a strange and worrying situation she was in. She stared at the flip chart, drawn to it by her need to work through the massive path of confusion that the day's events had thrown at them. She picked up a pen and removed the lid, surprised by how much her hands were shaking, then turned back to a sheet of paper she'd been working on a couple of days earlier. In the middle of the sheet was Gene's name in big block capitals and around it were things connected to the real world and his death, things that she felt she might need to resolve, to help him find peace so that she could return home. Her line of vision ran around words like '_Body never identified', 'no true memorial', 'ashes scattered' _and '_killer never found'_. Somewhere between them she let her pen come to rest, then wrote out one word followed by three question marks:

'_SIMON?'_

A bizarre situation had taken an increasingly impossible turn. Whatever the reason behind it, Alex was certain there was more than a mistake to resolve. Another obstacle had just been added to the path home.


	41. Chapter 21, 1996: Latte Miracles

_**A/N: I'm so sorry for the lack of updates and also for the short chapter. Almost as soon as I posted the last chapter my whole body just gave up on everything for several days. I am NOT good at doing nothing but I had to give in and just spent several days just lying down. I'm trying to get back on track slowly with everything and writing is as good a place to start as anything to ease me back in :) Thank you so much for all the reviews and the lovely messages, I feel so bad that I haven't been able to reply to them lately and I will do as soon as I'm able. I'm so glad that you're enjoying the story and hope you'll continue to follow the journey. Ocean and Morgana, I owe you both emails once I've made a start on the mountain of work I have to catch up on! X**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 21: 1996**

It didn't feel like Christmas Eve. It really didn't. Simon was tired of all the grim, dark days that followed one another. It had been a few days since his latest 'package' had arrived and he was in no better frame of mind about the situation than he'd been the day it landed on his desk.

He'd barely spoken to anyone since he'd played that tape. He knew others had their own problems and that he should have been lending support to both Gene and Eddie who needed it in different ways but he couldn't get beyond that tape and the thought of his mother having a one night stand. He supposed that all through his life, because he'd never known the full truth, there was a part of him that could always try to pretend the infidelity between his parents hadn't happened. Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. But now he'd heard his own mother on tape, confessing to it and the guilt she carried around, there was no rewriting history.

He sat in his office, knowing full well that it was just a year ago that he'd been doing the self-same thing, trying to ignore the fact that the festive season was upon him. Bloody hell, a year had gone by _already_ since then. He remembered his _bah humbug_ approach to Christmas and his regret as he saw how much it affected Kim, then recalled their gate-crashing of Gene and Alex's Christmas day. It was strange but when he looked back on it, that was actually one of his most enjoyable days of all the time he'd spent in this world.

The radio played gently on the window ledge but he barely took notice of the music. He was just hoping that the day would pass quickly so he could get to Christmas and then get the damn thing over and done with. It wasn't until the dulcet tones of Cliff Richard started pouring out that he started to pay attention to the music. In this case, paying attention meant swearing profusely and throwing an object at the radio in an attempt to shut the damn thing up.

"_Christmas time, mistletoe and w-" _was as far as the chorus managed to get before Simon threw a hole punch at it and actually managed to hit a button accurately enough to change the station. He sat back and stared on in amazement. His aim was never usually that good.

He found his eyes shifting to the window as the Spice Girls began to play on the radio, their first Christmas number 1 filling the office. He found himself sighing as he thought back to 1996 the first time around, his carefree teens, enjoying his first year at university, his life just beginning. What he would give to go back and be _that_ Simon Shoebury again.

_#...Candle light and soul forever_

_A dream of you and me together_

_Say you believe it, say you believe it_

_Free your mind of doubt and danger_

_Be for real, don't be a stranger_

_We can achieve it, we can achieve it…#_

He felt such nostalgia swamping him, those beautiful innocent days before he really knew what the world was about. It was ironic that he'd ended up smack-bang in the middle of the 90s, really, as he'd loved those days so much the first time around. As far as he was aware Gene's world was all about meeting your demons and laying them to rest. However, going back to the 90s had meant taking a happy time from his life and destroying it piece by piece.

_#...Come a little bit closer_

_Baby, get it on, get it on_

_'Cause tonight is the night when 2 become 1_

_I need some love like I never needed love before_

_Wanna make love to ya, baby_

_I had a little love, now I'm back for more_

_Wanna make love to ya, baby_

_Set your spirit free, it's the only way to be…#_

There was little chance of 2 becoming 1 for anyone that particular Christmas. Just a bunch of miserable people separated from their nearest and dearest. There was only one thing for it. As much as he liked the Spice Girls it was time to hurl another object at the radio. This time he chose a sellotape dispenser which didn't have the same strength behind it as the hole punch and had little effect but a voice from the doorway made him jump.

"OI, Shoebury, that's no way to treat a group of non-respectable young ladies."

Simon looked up, sprung in his anti-music violence by Gene.

"Sorry," he said a little sheepishly before he frowned. "Didn't have you picked out as a Spice Girls fan anyway," he couldn't help teasing.

"Just because I can't get behind the spirit of girl power doesn't mean I want to see that Posh one get a roll of sellotape in 'er eye," Gene told him.

"Sorry," Simon wasn't even sure why he was apologising.

Gene leaned against the doorpost.

"Anyway, it's Christmas Eve," he began, "you've got more important things to do than sitting round here throwing CID-issue stationery at radios."

"I hate to break it to you Gene but I am not Father Christmas and therefore have _nothing_ important to be doing today," Simon sighed.

"You've got the important job of telling me why you've had a face like someone chewing on a Keats-flavoured lemon all week," Gene told him, "Not spending Christmas with someone more bloody miserable than I am. Get yer coat."

"Why? Have I Pulled?" Mumbled Simon, not sure whether he was less keen on the idea of hanging around work all day or going wherever Gene was about to drag him.

"I'm starting a new tradition," Gene told him, "Christmas Eve lattes."

"How does that differ from every other day?" Simon asked half-heartedly.

"Because this time, I'm buying," said Gene.

Simon froze. He blinked a few times and stared at Gene expecting him to say that was all a big joke but he didn't say another word. He scratched in his ear with his finger in case he had any errant ear wax causing him to hear promises that weren't really there. Eventually he had to ask,

"You're serious?"

"Come on, Shoebury, once a year – you really going to miss out on this opportunity?"

Simon stared on in shock. He finally pulled on his coat and followed Gene to the door.

"So Christmas _is _a time for miracles after all," he said in awe.

~xXx~

Eddie watched Gene and Simon leaving the station and thought about following them. He'd wanted to talk to Simon all day but had been putting it off and now the chance had gone. He had that awful grinding feeling in his guts, the one that you get when you know something terrible is about to occur and there's no way out of the situation. But this was different – this wasn't just a bad feeling, this was the _knowledge_ that something actually was going to happen that night, something that affected him for the rest of his life.

Somewhere out there was a teenaged Eddie who was about to lose his best friend in a drunk driving accident that had never made sense to him. He had never quite understood how the incident came to be. It wasn't like Andy had ever shown signs of carelessness before. It seemed so out of character.

Just hours from now he'd be leaving the doors of their local and getting into his car for the final journey of his life. Eddie closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh. He'd been back and forth in his mind over this for days. Was there a way to stop it happening? Was there a way to change the past? He didn't know, but there was no way that he could sit by and wait for it to happen again.

If he tried and failed then that was one thing but if he didn't even try then he would fail at his friendship and that was a far worse thing to have on his conscience.

One way or another that night he was going to do his best to put a stop to the crash that killed his friend and sent him into a spiral of depression that took him years to fight back against. Sometimes Christmas_ was_ a time for miracles. He felt sure he deserved one this year.


	42. Chapter 22, 2011: No Blanks

_**A/N: Ha, last time I was apologising for the shortness of the chapter, this time I'm apologising for the length! :D Seriously, finally being able to write again without forcing it is a good sign! Well, for my health anyway, not for you because it means I've got a few weeks of absolute blaarghhh horrible ill stuff to make up for and might go crazy with updates now I can write again :P Sorry!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 22: 2011**

Rarely had days been slower to pass than the two days between the DNA link and the telephone ringing. It was two days of almost complete silence for Alex, Robin and Kim. It was just impossible for anyone to know what to say. Everyone was afraid of saying the wrong thing. What was the _right_ thing? _Was_ there one?

For Alex, the fact that anyone had come up as a genetic match, partial or otherwise, was a massive shock to the system, but layering into that the fact that it was Simon whose name had been printed on that report and her mind was spinning. She'd written endless lists, pages and pages of notes and brainstorms, and yet she was coming no closer to an answer. She felt incredibly awkward being around Robin. She couldn't imagine what this was doing to him, the man who had managed to pull his life together after losing his partner so tragically and suddenly now Simon's name was being thrown around as a relative of an alleged 'attacker' and the past was right back in his face.

Robin spent those two days in a state of disbelief, a part of him desperate to believe that there had been a huge mistake or that this was some kind of prank gone wrong while the other part of him had a terrible, sinking feeling that there was no mistake and that they were only beginning to uncover some sort of dark secret that they most likely didn't want to know. He didn't know if he wanted to talk about it or to keep it bottled up inside. He would open a conversation and then cut it short almost as soon as he'd spoken. The brandy bottle had taken a fair hit and there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and an abundance of worry.

Although the most emotionally removed from the situation, Kim seemed to be finding the stress hardest to cope with. She felt as though she was running herself ragged, trying to make sure both Alex and Robin were managing to keep themselves together in light of the strange occurrences as well as torturing herself by going over and over all kinds of ridiculous possibilities in her mind again and again. And although it had been many years since she'd left Gene's world Simon had been a very good friend of hers. Her _best_ friend. She hated to see his name connected with a 'rape' that had never even taken place. Robin noted how pale her skin had become and how drained and exhausted she was, every movement of her body a strain. It worried him terribly.

The wait for further news had been dragging them down too but really none of them were sure whether it was a blessing or a curse when the telephone rang in the middle of a breakfast that none of them were actually eating. It was Robin who reluctantly answered and as Alex and Kim watched his expression it was easy to see who was on the line. They both waited for the inevitable confirmation as he hung up and turned to them slowly

.

"We've, uh," he cleared his throat, unable to look either in the eye, "got some early morning visitors on their way."

He watched both Alex and Kim visibly deflate before his eyes. He hated the thought of the three stooges arriving every bit as much as they did. At least once they arrived and cleared Simon's father of any wrongdoing then Alex could tell them again that she wanted the case to be taken no further and they could put this behind them. Except that it wasn't that simple, of course – the legacy of Simon's DNA remained, but at least they could deal with it in their own time.

The buzzer went a few minutes later and Kim and Alex trailed into the lounge, looking as though they were being led to the gallows while Robin let their visitors inside. He began to lead them through to the awaiting gathering in the lounge but he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked back to see Huston looking a little uncomfortable.

"Robin," he began, which made Robin worry for a start. Usually it was 'chief inspector Thomas.'

"Yes?"

"I think we should perhaps speak alone before we talk to DI Drake."

Robin felt a terrible shudder travel through his body. He swallowed and looked at DCI Huston with scared eyes like a child who was about to get a lecture for bouncing on the bed. He started to panic momentarily. What on earth had happened now? Who else's DNA had they uncovered? Andrew Ridgeley's? But he pulled himself together and said,

"No. Whatever you have to tell us, this involves Alex more than it involves me so you can tell us all together."

"I really think we should have a private word," Huston seemed fairly anxious and for a split second Robin thought about it but the need to have the moral support of Kim and Alex as well as to keep everything in the open between the three of them soon took over.

"You can talk to us all together," he said again and led them through to where the two women were waiting. He sank into a chair and waited for the three stooges to take up their places on the couch as before but this time instead of addressing Alex they all turned to him.

"Alright," Huston began, "Now, I understand this may be a little awkward but I need to ask you a few personal questions about Simon."

Robin swallowed and started to feel extremely uncomfortable. Bloody hell, what was he going to ask him? Favourite position in bed? Penis size?

"What?" he asked anxiously.

Huston looked at him seriously.

"Do you happen to know whether there was any kind of fertility treatment that his parents had to undergo?" he asked.

Robin didn't understand.

"What do you mean?"

"Did they have difficulty conceiving?" Huston asked, "did Simon's mother have to undergo any kind of treatment to have him? Was there, say, a sperm donor used for example?"

Robin felt his cheeks flushing. This seemed like an extremely personal question to ask.

"I… I don't think so," he said, drawing back a little in his seat, "I mean, Simon always joked that he thought he was a bit of an accident… a 'surprise'… he came along a bit after his sisters…"

"What relevance does this have to the case?" Alex cut to the chase, not wishing for the three interlopers to stay any longer than necessary.

Hamilton didn't have the good grace of Huston to feel awkward or apologetic.

"I'll cut to the chase," she began.

"Thought you might," Kim mumbled sarcastically.

"The DNA testing on Mister Shoebury showed no genetic connection between himself and Simon." She paused to take in the row of blank faces. "Paul Shoebury was not DCI Simon Shoebury's father."

There was silence. This was followed by more silence. No one knew what to say. There didn't seem to be an appropriate response to that. Finally Robin tried to clear his throat. His mouth seemed terribly dry suddenly.

"How-how can there be no genetic connection?" he knew he sounded stupid but he couldn't stop the words from escaping, "that's his father."

"Was there ever an element of doubt about Simon's paternity?" Huston asked Robin, "are you aware that Simon's mother may have been unfaithful to her husband at any point?"

"How is that any of your business?" Robin's heart was thumping away in his chest and his hands began to shake. He felt Kim take one and squeezed it gratefully. He needed that gesture to keep himself grounded. He could feel his temper beginning to rise.

"In short, now that we know Paul Shoebury has no genetic similarity to DI Drake's attacker we need to trace whoever Simon's real father was to find the man who attacked DI Drake," Hamilton said bluntly.

"I told you, I want this case dropped," Alex said firmly.

"A very serious crime has been committed against you," Hamilton began but Alex cut her off.

"This investigation has started to pull apart the family of a close friend – this stops, now."

Robin looked at Huston with fresh alarm in his eyes.

"Oh god, does… does Paul know?" he asked, "you haven't told him, have you?" he felt a terrible sense of panic rising, "oh, please don't tell him about Simon."

"We have to inform him of the full results of the testing," Huston told him, a little apologetically, "it is imperative that we find out as much from him as we can about Simon's true genetic paternity so we can find the real attacker."

"You mean you're going to ask him if his wife was unfaithful?" Robin could hardly believe what he was hearing.

Huston nodded slowly.

"I'm afraid so," he said quietly.

Robin felt a tear beginning to slide down his cheek. It shocked him terribly. He wiped it away urgently and cried,

"Please, think about what you're doing. That man's already lost his son once. Don't take Simon away from him all over again."

"Robin… it's out of our hands," Huston said, a look of guilt across his face.

Robin froze.

"What do you mean?" he barely managed to choke out.

Huston looked down.

"He's being questioned at the station regarding Simon's true paternity at this moment," he said quietly.

Robin just stared on in horror. His whole face seemed to fall, literally crumbling into a pool of despair. If they were already questioning Paul then why were they asking him the same questions? He felt irrationally as though he'd let him down. He couldn't protect Paul from whatever horrible mistake had occurred. it was too late for that now.

"please tell me you're not serious?" he shook his head slowly, trembling, more tears threatening to fall.

"I'm sorry. But for the investigation –"

"No more investigation," Alex stood up, her eyes shooting daggers at the three detectives, "I told you last time, I want this stopped now. Even if you found someone to charge I won't press charges so this stops, right now."

"DI Drake, you were _raped_ in your _hospital_ bed," Hamilton hoped her harsh words would shock her into changing her mind, "now, if you don't stop this man from attacking again someone else could end up in your position."

"DI Hamilton, do you have any children?"

Hamilton froze, then frowned.

"What does that –"

"Do you?"

Hamilton stared.

"No."

"Have you ever been pregnant?"

"DI Drake, I don't understand what you are trying to achieve."

Alex pulled in a deep breath.

"That's a no?" she surmised.

Hamilton stared and glared, then her expression changed a little and became one of defeat. _Best humour the poor ex-coma victim._

"No," she sighed, "I have never been pregnant. Your point is?"

"It's the biggest responsibility you can ever have in your life," Alex's voice was steady and strong. She wasn't going to let Hamilton talk over her now. "You go through your life with the same body and then suddenly there's this tiny little person that's totally reliant on you, even more so than when she's born, because it's not just _her_ that you have to look after but yourself too." She paused and took a deep breath. This wasn't an easy concept to explain. "You need to protect that tiny person from harm. And to do that you need to keep yourself safe too." She slowly got to her feet and said calmly, "Now, I am still recovering. And every drop of energy that I have left in my body is going straight to my baby. I don't have the strength to keep dwelling on you and your case and your insatiable thirst for getting a collar when it means destroying a family in the process."

"Don't you care that there is a man who thinks it is acceptable to have sex with comatose women in their hospital beds?" Hamilton demanded, more frustrated by Alex's calm exterior than anything.

"What I care about," Alex said quietly, "is that it's half past eight in the morning and our day has been highly traumatic before most people's have fully begin. Now, if you'll excuse me I would like to go and rest, to put this conversation out of my mind and to concentrate on looking after my baby in exactly the way I have tried to explain. And I believe that my friends will need some time to recuperate from yet another bombshell dropped upon them too."

Kim looked anxiously from Robin's near catatonic state to Alex's firm jaw and determined expression. She got to her feet and said quietly,

"I'll see you out."

As she walked to the door Hamilton looked to Huston, expecting him to argue and for the grilling to continue but he simply shook his head at her and stood up.

"Alright," he said quietly, "DI Drake, we'll leave you to think this over for a couple more days to make sure that this is your final decision on the matter."

"I won't be changing my mind," Alex's expression was defiant and fairly daunting for the three detectives. Eventually they got to their feet and filed out of the door one by one. Huston hesitated as he passed by Kim, glancing back at the devastated shell of Robin. It wasn't often that he felt guilty in his work but he felt Hamilton's judgement had been completely wrong in this case and his sympathies lay with Robin.

"DI Stringer, I won't expect you in today," he said quietly, "I think you have more important matters to deal with."

Kim nodded. She was grateful for that.

"Thank you, Sir," she said quietly.

She felt torn between anger at the intrusion and disruption to their lives and feeling glad that he'd at least recognised how damaging this was to them all. She opened the front door and wordlessly waited for them to leave. As she shut the door behind them she closed her eyes and leaned back against it, breathing heavily. The situation was growing worse by the moment and now she was going to have to try to pick up the pieces behind her. She felt mentally drained and so sick at the thought of what both Alex and Robin were going through. She pressed her fingers to her lips as though afraid she was about to lose what little breakfast she'd eaten. A little voice in her head kept telling her this wasn't possible, again and again. DNA was saying something very different.

She took several deep breaths, enough to level her nerves for the time being before she slowly walked back to the lounge. Both Alex and Robin were sitting in silence, their thoughts a world away. Kim's eyes lowered. She felt a little like an outsider. For all her connections with Gene's world she knew that she would never quite feel as distressed or disturbed by the events as Alex and Robin were.

Alex looked up at her and offered a tiny, weak smile.

"Ma'am, are you OK?" Kim asked quietly.

Alex slowly stood up and walked a little unsteadily to the door.

"I will be," she said quietly. Her eyes turned to Robin. "That DCI of yours was right. You have more important things to deal with right now." She watched Kim's expression fall as she took in quite how distraught Robin appeared. "I'll be fine. Look after him."

Alex tried to give her a reassuring smile. She wasn't sure that she succeeded but it was convincing enough that Kim didn't try to stop her passing. She just needed to get to her room and close out the rest of the world; to concentrate on the two things that brought her back to reality – the flip chart full of words, thoughts, theories and hope, and the movements in her belly that showed her just how real the situation was.

Kim's eyes focused on Robin as Alex passed her by. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had never seen him look quite that broken before. She felt her legs tremble as she walked towards him and knelt by his side. It took him several moments to finally turn to her and even when he did he couldn't speak. There didn't seem to be any words to say. She reached forward and brushed the hair from his eye with her fingers. Just as Alex found her grounding and reasoning in flip charts and lists they had their own point of focus for the moments that they struggled to comprehend.

"Come on," she said to him, quietly but firmly, "bed."

~xXx~

Alex thought she had been doing a good job of keeping herself together and hopeful since she had awoken in 2011, but now she was struggling to hold the pieces together. She had treasured that feeling burning deep inside of her that this was just a temporary state of affairs and that she would be on her way home as soon as she'd found how to hit the escape key. But the path that led her there was growing darker and more twisted as time went by and now the only allies she really had in the real world had been dragged down into something that they did not deserve.

"Oh, _Gene_," she whispered. She closed her eyes and sank into the chair just in front of the flip chart. She felt closest to him as she sat there, somehow. It felt as though all her lists and thoughts were the indirect line right to him and she knew that they would get her home to him soon. But it wasn't soon enough. "Why is this happening, Gene?" she asked out loud, as though he could somehow hear, "I understand that there are… are _things_ I need to do here. I thought I understood what they were. Give you your identity. Help you to find peace. But now…" she shook her head slowly and looked downwards. "Now I'm not so sure. Is this even about you? The _physical_ you? The ashes scattered somewhere in a Manchester memorial garden? The man who fell in the middle of Farringfield Green? Or is this about something more than that?" she swallowed and allowed her eyes to travel up to the board where they focused on the word she'd written two days earlier – _Simon? ? ?_

"This makes no sense to me," she said quietly, her head shaking slowly from side to side, "and I am trying to work this out, but some things are just… just beyond what I understand." She swallowed, "and now a man's family is going to be destroyed, Robin's in pieces and Kim's running herself into the ground trying to bond everything together with some kind of… tattoo-based superglue. I need to get home, Gene," her hand rested against her bulging stomach as she felt a strong twitch inside of her, "we both do. But I don't know how we are ever supposed to when things are just becoming more complicated with every day that passes."

She slowly stood up, grasping the pen but with no intention of writing anything yet. She couldn't think of anything to add to the board.

"Who _is_ Simon?" she asked. It sounded like a stupid question after knowing him for so long but she meant it on a very different level, "what is he to you, Gene? How can you share the same DNA? You died _decades_ before he was even _born_."

She stared at the sheet of paper packed with words and thoughts but no answers jumped out at her. In fact, the more she looked the less sense it made to her. She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

"I'm so scared of letting you down," she said quietly. She didn't even know where to begin.

For a few moments she felt as though she was starting to crumble, as though all her hope and determination was falling away beneath her. finally she drew together her courage and breathed in deeply. She wasn't going to let herself get into a negative mindset. She had to get home. She needed Gene and she was damn sure he needed her too. They were a pair. A set. A buy one get one free deal. She flipped to a clean page, took the cap off her pen and began to fill in squares of numbers. It wasn't the first time she's mapped out a calendar to mark off the days to an important event but this time there were only three weeks to include.

She started with the Monday before; the fateful day that the DNA results came through, then filled out the rest of the week, the following week and finally the first week of January. The last day she included was Saturday 7th January under which she wrote a large _M_ for Manchester.

That was it now. She'd given herself a deadline. She worked far better and more efficiently with one of those to focus on.

Saturday 7th January 2012. That was D-Day. Or, M Day in this case.

On that day she would make the journey north and she knew whatever she found up there would eventually lead her home. That gave her 2 and a half weeks to fill in the rest of the blanks. Her days in this world were now literally numbered. Somehow that gave her hope; the boost it desperately needed.

"I'm coming home, Gene," she said with determination, "keep the bed warm for me."

~xXx~

Robin felt stupid and weak for allowing something to drag him down so much. But the strange turn of events had left him eaten up inside with sadness, anxiety and fear and he found himself regressing into depression. He was trying as hard as he could to fight against it but bringing up the subject of Simon alone had given him a lot to dwell on, coupled with the effect the news would have on Simon's family – a family that Robin had come to think of as his own – it was just too much for him to deal with in one go.

With his work shirt discarded in a crumpled pile on the floor, he lay in bed; their sanctuary. He wished he could even remember where the '_bed'_ thing started. It was just where they felt safest when things were getting too difficult to cope with.

"How am I ever going to look them in the eye again after this?" he asked quietly and suddenly. Kim was relieved that he had at least spoken. He'd been laying in silence for several minutes. She ran her fingers across the ink on his back and shook her head slowly.

"None of this is your fault, Rob," she tried to remind him, "this was out of your control. No one could have known that Simon's DNA was going to crop up, nor that that bloody _Hamilton_ woman was going to take such a heartless and thoughtless step." She felt anger rising in her veins. Alex wasn't the only one who'd taken an instant dislike to DI Hamilton. "I'm going to be making a serious complaint about her, I can assure you."

"I was supposed to be taking their Christmas presents round tomorrow," he said quietly, "I can't face them now. Not after this."

"Simon's dad isn't going to blame you for any of this."

"But he's still got to deal with it," Robin reminded her, "just before Christmas he's going to find out that the man he raised as his son wasn't his at all." He slowly turned over in bed until he was facing Kim. "The one thing I'm grateful for is that Simon never had to know."

Kim bot on her lip nervously. She didn't want to pry into a matter that was such a delicate issue but something was playing on her mind.

"This… this is where Simon's whole… fidelity issue comes from, isn't it?" she said quietly, "he was always obsessed about people cheating. He went mad about me and Shaz because I had a girlfriend back in the real world. Eventually he told me about that… _family rift."_

Robin nodded silently, He breathed in deeply

"He never knew which one of his parents cheated on the other," he said quietly, "or even for sure that one of them did. But the time they almost split up affected him deeply. He had a lot of trust issues stemming from that."

"And now it looks like it was his mother who cheated?" Kim asked quietly as Robin nodded. He looked away, uncomfortable talking about the subject. It felt as though they were talking behind his back. "Shit." She hesitated and looked down. She didn't know how to phrase what she was about to ask. It sounded completely ridiculous, but she needed to ask it anyway. She traced her finger around the inked lines on Robin's chest, covering up the scars that Keats had left across his body. It was something she found herself doing often. "Rob?" she began awkwardly, "You know that I have to ask this, don't you? Even though I know how dumb it sounds, I still have to ask." She met his eyes and swallowed. "Gene's DNA… Simon's paternity… Could there be any way? Any way at all?" she bit her lip. "You did say she came from Manchester."

"But if Gene died when Alex says he did then Simon's mum would have had the longest pregnancy in history," Robin shook his head slowly.

"I'm not talking about the Gene Hunt who died in this world, Rob," Kim looked him in the eye, "I'm talking the one who's probably slamming someone against a filing cabinet right now in nineteen ninety something."

"Stuff you do there can't change the past," Robin shook his head, "When I was there, my father was caught and arrested. Changed nothing in the real world. Been on the run for sixteen years and counting."

"But it hasn't always been like that," Kim's simple sentence caused a shudder through Robin's spine.

"What do you mean?"

"I told you what Simon said once," Kim's voice was hardly above a whisper now, "Gene told him things were different in Manchester. Worlds were closer. It didn't sound like _everything_ was connected between the two but his DI at the time changed some things in the real world with his actions over there." She felt a horrid burning sensation in her chest. "Gene's DNA has already done the impossible and skipped that line between worlds once, Rob. Go in there and poke Alex in the belly, that's all the proof you need."

"I –" Robin hesitated. He wasn't sure what part to respond to first; the fact that he had no intention of wandering off to poke Alex - in the belly or elsewhere – since he valued his life too much, the idea that worlds had been more able to influence each other when Gene was in Manchester or the fact that this was the most ridiculous conversation he'd ever had in his life. "I… I can't buy this, Kim," he said quietly, "it's too big a coincidence. It's… it's more like some sort of X-Files… _is-the-smoking-man-Mulder's-real-father_ thing and I can't buy it."

"In a way it kind of answers a lot of stuff," Kim said quietly, almost afraid to admit that, "I know it poses a fuckload of questions too, but…" she trailed off. Robin's expression becoming more troubled by the moment. She closed her eyes and moved a little closer to him as a distant memory came back to her, pricking her like a knife. "Shit."

Robin looked at her in alarm.

"Shit what?" he asked nervously.

"Truth or dare," Kim said quietly.

Robin wasn't sure where this was leading. It seemed like a one-sided word association game.

"What?"

"I wish I could remember all the bloody details," Kim pushed herself up onto her elbow and looked at him. "There was this game of truth or dare at Christmas, the one Christmas I was there. Simon asked Gene his _favourite_ question, whether he'd ever been unfaithful to anyone."

Robin waited for her to go on.

"And?"

"He told us about this one night stand he had," Kim felt awkward talking about Gene's private business, even if it had been shared during a drunken game, "_shit_, I wish I could remember more about it… I was pissed out my head at the time, and it was eight years ago for me. Alex might know more, it was only a year ago to her."

"I don't think Alex would take too kindly to questions about her fiancé's history of fidelity," Robin pointed out, before adding, "_or_ being poked in the gut."

"Wasn't serious about that part," Kim pulled a face.

"Yeah, I know," it was the first thing approaching a smile that Kim had seen from Robin all morning and she was relieved to at least see that much. She gave a nervous and faint smile in return, then grew serious again.

"Honestly though, Rob. I don't remember many of the details. I know it happened in Manchester and had something to do with a woman who'd been arrested on a drunken hen night."

Robin's eyes closed tightly.

"Shit."

He didn't even need to say another word. Kim could easily fill in the gaps from that. She felt like cringing. It felt as though they'd just innocently put together a jigsaw that ended up forming a lewd picture.

"The family falling out?" she whispered.

Robin's nod was so slight it was almost imperceptible.

"All Simon knew about it was that it happened before he was born, when one of his aunts was about to get married. There was a drunken gathering and his mother never spoke to any of her family again."

"Sounds like a hen night to me," Kim said quietly.

They both fell silent for a while until Robin sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Why are we even talking about this? It's all bloody impossible."

"If it's impossible then why are you shaking?" Kim asked gently.

Robin looked down. She was right, he'd been trembling for some time as they'd been talking. He wished that he could put all thoughts of the seemingly impossible out of his mind but he couldn't do that because they were starting to make more sense than anything else did. He could feel his guts churning at the thought of it, that somehow a glitch in time and reality could have allowed something so strange and unbelievable to occur. It was like some kind of twisted paradox that fate had planned out for Simon way in advance. Was that why Simon had to die? Some impossible generic connection with the Manc lion over in another world that ensured that his time in the real world was limited? Then where did that leave Robin, or Kim for that matter? All the strangeness with watches and bizarre heart attacks and goodness knows what – they were all in a tangle. A great big impossible fucking metaphysical tangle with no way out.

He looked at Kim, his dark eyes layered with anxiety.

"I can't talk about this any more," he said quietly.

Kim nodded slowly.

"Neither can I," she whispered.

Robin was relieved that she didn't argue. It was too big and too dark to comprehend. He needed something to ground him and keep him steady while the impossible thoughts flew around his mind. Sliding his fingers around the side of her face, he pulled Kim closer, pressed his forehead to hers and just closed his eyes. The feeling of her hair around his fingers and her breath against his face kept his feet on the ground no matter how fast his thoughts were churning.

~xXx~

Alex could hear some slightly angry muttering. That was the first thing that began to shake her from her sleep. She opened one eye and tried to work out what she was even doing lying down. She didn't remember drifting off, but the whole debacle that had occurred in the morning had drained her to the point of exhaustion and what had started as sitting on the soft bed for a moment had turned into a three-hour nap. She looked at the clock and cursed, rubbing her eyes and trying to wake herself up properly. She'd just experienced a real-life example of how much energy was going to another little person instead of to herself.

She could still hear angry voices from the kitchen so curiously she got to her feet and walked a little woozily out of her room. She was greeted by two things; a slightly nervous smile from Robin who was sitting at the table and a large plate of sandwiches parked in the middle of it.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I dosed off."

"Perfectly understandable," Robin said gently, pushing an empty plate towards her, "help yourself to sandwiches." He pointed at different piles in turn, "Cheese and tomato, cheese and pickle, tuna salad and baked bean."

Alex made a mental note to stay away from the ones with the orange hue.

"Thanks," she said quietly, her eyes flickering to Kim who was pacing up and down with the phone to her ear. "Is… is everything alright?"

Robin nodded.

"Kim's just… sorting a few things, that's all," he said, cringing a little as he heard her say;

"_No I don't care if your DCI is on another call, if he's the one responsible for Heartless Hamilton then I recommend you remove the phone from his ear and get him to take my call instead before I pay your station a visit and jam the receiver somewhere the sun doesn't shine."_

"Exactly… _what_… is Kim sorting out?" Alex was almost worried to ask, "how to begin world war three?"

"Uh," Robin glanced behind him. Kim's face was an interesting colour. He was hoping that the purple angry look would fade when she was finally off the phone, "we were, uh, trying to chill out a bit and cool down after that _visit_ this morning… so we laid down for a while, until Kim's stomach reminded us loudly it was lunch time… so we came and started making some sandwiches and I mentioned that someone needed to put that bloody DI I her place… and, uh, I suppose Kim decided to be that someone…"

"…_No, there's a difference between 'doing her job' and being a self-appointed bitch-queen home-wrecker from hell,"_ Kim's subtle words continued in the background, _"…She's supposed to be a detective inspector, part of that job involves actually communicating with people on a level that doesn't lead to them taking a flying leap out of the window! …What do you mean 'put me on hold'? No no, don't you dare – I'm warning you if I hear one note of Greensleeves I am going to find a bloody green jumper, come round there and strangle you with the sleeves of that myself!"_

Alex watched in with both awe and amusement.

"It's like watching a younger, female Gene in action," she remarked, "except with spikey hair and knee-length boots."

The distant smile on Robin's face as he watched her marching up and down, continuing the call, simply went to show Alex another hint of the closeness and fondness between them. She had to admit that when she'd been given an unexpected introduction to their relationship in the middle of her hospital room she'd struggled to understand how a relationship could possible work between them. As she'd watched them together in the following weeks the answer was simple – it just 'did'.

"…_Finally_!" Kim stopped pacing to focus her fury into the next stage of the call,_ "I want to complain about your DI. DI Hamilton. Yeah, the one whose hair was scraped back so severely that it pulled all her humanity out with it. …Someone called already? Who?... Well, good. Quite frankly, I'm glad. She's made an absolutely unthinkable mistake and ruined Christmas for someone who's just been told that his son wasn't his after all." _She started to pace agai as she listened,_ "…well no, that's not enough. I want a personal apology from her to Alex Drake and one to Robin Thomas. In person, plus a copy in writing."_

"She's good," Alex commented, impressed.

"You should have seen her when Sky overcharged us for broadband," Robin joked. His face took on a more serious look and he turned to Alex. "Alex? There's something we need to ask you."

Alex felt a little anxious.

"Yes?"

"It's not an easy thing to ask. We don't want to upset you."

Alex's nerves increased.

"You're worrying me now," she said.

"It's about Gene," Robin began but Kim's angry tones drowned him out a little too much as she cried,

"_I don't care if she delivers it in song or through a bloody tap-dance routine – I just want a formal apology from the woman to all the people whose misjudgement has affected. Hmm? My name? Stringer. DI Kim Stringer. ..Yes, DI. What? No, I'm not looking for a transfer!"_

"I think maybe we should finish this conversation when the call is over, "Robin said sheepishly, reaching for a baked bean sandwich.

"…_What? …Fenchurch East. Yes, with DCI Huston. …what? I told you, I'm not bloody interested! Fast track? Fast tracked to what? …Look, at this time of day the only thing I want to fast track is my lunch down to my stomach, alright? So get that woman to apologise and at least go some way towards retracting the Bah humbugs she's spread around Fenchurch. Good day."_

Robin gave her a smile of amusement as she cut the call.

"Had fun?" he asked.

"The bloody cheek of it!" Kim fumed, "he was more interested in trying to recruit me for some fast track scheme than in listening to my complaint!"

"Maybe he was recruiting you for an anger management course," Robin teased, which earned him a mature raspberry from Kim. She sat down and took a plate which she began filling with sandwiches.

"Anyway, there is supposed to be an apology heading to both of you," she said, "if it doesn't arrive then I'll be sure to issue you both with earplugs before round two."

A period of quiet followed, which was mostly filled with the sound of munching and one cry of, "_Ugh, Robin, I took one of your baked bean sandwiches by mistake!"_ Eventually the pile of sandwiches had been more or less depleted and Robin knew that he had to broach the question again. Kim's angry rant had already delayed it once but they had to face it sooner or later. Finishing his last mouthful of baked beans he pushed his plate to one side and began nervously,

"Alex, there's still that question…"

Alex laid down the rest of her sandwich. It was strange but there was something about Robin's tone that unnerved her.

"Yes?" she said quietly.

Robin exchanged a glance with Kim who nodded slowly.

"We… we hate bringing this up and asking but it's important," he said quietly, "if we've overstepped the mark –"

"Robin, just tell me what it is." Alex told him. She didn't want the matter strung out any longer than necessary.

Robin nodded and swallowed.

"Kim… told me about truth or dare," he began, "You played it… it would have been last Christmas to you…"

Alex felt herself blushing.

"Look, Robin, it was only a dare, it lasted just a few seconds –"

"Uh –" Robin frowned blankly.

"I have no romantic feelings for Kim whatsoever –"

"Uh, no, Alex, that's not –"

"And to be honest she'd had so much to drink by that point I'm surprised she can even remember!"

Kim was sinking visibly lower into her seat. Another inch or so and she would have completely vanished under the table.

"I… I don't think that dare was the part of the game Robin wanted to ask you about, ma'am," she said awkwardly through burning cheeks.

Alex froze.

"Oh," she said curtly, her face still flushed. She cleared her throat. "Well, in that case, carry on."

Robin looked from one to the other, not quite sure what had just happened.

"Uh, it wasn't actually a dare I wanted to ask you about," he said, "It was one of the truths. Kim said Simon asked Gene a question about whether…" he bit his lip. He hated to ask this. "Whether he'd ever been unfaithful to someone." As soon as he'd said it he could see from the look on Alex's face that her own thoughts had been moving in the same unfeasible direction that his and Kim's had that morning. A sense of guilt churned him up inside as he saw her expression fall. "I'm sorry, Alex, it's just… we… we were talking about everything… and Kim remembered that Gene admitted he'd had a one night stand when he lived in Manchester…"

Alex closed her eyes momentarily. It was true that she had been starting to think along the same lines as Robin and Kim but Gene's truth or dare confession had slipped under the radar and she had failed to tie the two together. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

"Yes," she said quietly, "he did admit to cheating on his ex-wife. It was a one night thing. He seemed to carry around a lot of guilt about that. He had never even admitted it to me until the game."

"We were hoping," Robin's voice seemed weak and nervous, "you might be able to tell us some of the details," he fiddled anxiously with his plate, "Kim can't remember them that well… it was a long time ago for her."

"And I was running on about eighty percent proof blood at the time," Kim admitted.

Alex felt a lump in her throat. She stared down at the remains of a sandwich on her pate.

"It's not something he's proud of," she said quietly, "his relationship wasn't going well and his ex-wife had gone away for a few days to teach him a lesson about being more dedicated to the job than he was to her. He made a mistake and then he had to live with the guilt. I don't want you to judge him."

"We wouldn't," Robin said quietly. He felt his cheeks darkening a little as his eyes moved involuntarily to Kim. He was in no position to judge when his relationship with Kim had started behind her wife's back. There were times that he still felt terribly guilty about that. He knew Kim did too.

"All I know," Alex couldn't quite meet their gaze, "is that one night he was present at the arrest of a group of drunken young ladies on a hen night that had spiralled out of control. They'd all been picked up, but one of them wasn't charged in the end. She was reasonably sober and hadn't done anything wrong so she was released but had nowhere to go as the rest of her family and friends were locked up in the cells for the night. And Gene…" she exhaled and ran her tongue across her dry lips. Even though this had been long before she and Gene had met she still felt awkward talking about it, "he took her home so she had a place to stay. I don't think he had any… un-gentlemanly intentions," she said, "but sometimes things happen." She shook her head slowly. "Gene only realised she was married the next morning. That made him feel even worse. He took her to catch her coach back down to London and never saw or heard from her again."

Robin cleared his throat.

"Did he tell you anything else about her? What she looked like? Anything like that?"

"Gene's memory of his time in Manchester isn't the greatest," Alex shook her head, "I doubt he remembers that clearly." She finally looked up, her gaze shifting from one to the other. "I know why you're asking me this," her voice began to shake a little.

"Alex, I'm sorry," Robin said quietly.

"I… I've thought about it too," she said quietly, "although I didn't… didn't make that particular connection… but the DNA.." she closed her eyes. "it would all make a nice, neat soap opera plot if it wasn't for one thing." She took a deep breath. "It's just not possible."

"Yeah… we've said those same words over and over but…" Robin shook his head, "we keep coming back to the same thought."

"Different worlds, different timelines," Alex said weakly, her head thumping, "even if, somehow, Gene's… momentary lapse of fidelity was with S-Simon's mother," the words sounded so ridiculous said aloud that they caught in her throat, "then it would only affect the other world. It couldn't change things here."

"Ma'am, I hate to be the one to point this out," Kim began quietly, her eyes dropping to Alex's growing bump, "but," her mouth felt dry, "there, um, does seem to be a precedent for this. And he's not exactly firing blanks, is he?"

"Kim!" Alex's mouth fell open.

"I'm _sorry_!" Kim protested, "but it's true… look at you, ma'am – this wasn't supposed to be possible, was it? Didn't we go through the same conversations weeks go about your pregnancy? And yet here you are, absolutely blooming." She noted that Alex's expression was changing. There was almost a look of defeat upon her face, as though her own body held the perfect counterargument to _'it's just not possible'_ and however much she repeated those words – aloud or in her mind – the tiny foot scrambling around her ribs took that argument clean away. Her hand rose to her belly and she closed her eyes. It just couldn't _be_, and yet all the evidence was pointing in that direction.

Robin looked down, something playing through his mind, a quote that he and Kim had recalled while tied up and threatened by Keats on the barge.

_"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth."_

Alex stared down at the table. It was easier than seeing the looks on Kim or Robin's faces. She took a deep breath as her lips finally whispered the truth.

"Gene's his father," she closed her eyes, "isn't he?"

The resulting silence gave away more than any words could express.


	43. Chapter 22, 1996: Family Way

**Chapter 22: 1996**

"Right: One latte," Gene was less than subtle as he plonked the mug in front of Simon, "more than willing to top it up with alcohol if necessary. So start telling me what's caused this week's attack of the miseries and get it out the bloody way so we can go 'ome and start complaining about all the shitty festive crap on television instead."

Simon looked up at Gene.

"That's a subtle way of approaching it," he commented, "ever thought about becoming a therapist?"

"Simon, there are not enough filing cabinets in the world to deal with the cracked and flipped of Fenchurch," Gene told him. He picked up a handful of sugar packets and began pouring them into his latte one by one. "Spill it Shoebury."

"Oh God, Gene, honestly, you don't want to know," Simon shook his head, his fingers playing with his overgrown hair. He had been working hard at trying to push his problems out of his mind, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about them.

"It's tell me about it or wear that latte over yer head," Gene told him, stirring in the sugar.

Simon took one look at Gene and knew he was serious He gave a deep sigh and shook his head slowly.

"You'd be feeling the same way if you'd been getting Christmas presents from Keats," he said.

"Oh bloody hell, don't tell me, sent you a _Wham_ T-shirt?" Gene guessed, "Probably '_Choose Death'_."

"I'd rather have one of those bloody autographs of his than the gift he gave me," Simon stared into his mug.

"Blimey, this is serious," Gene started to feel genuinely worried now. He'd seen Simon depressed several times but he seemed so empty and desolate now. "Look, Shoebury, I'm not going to badger you if you just want me to mind me own business."

Simon glanced at him.

"But?" he prompted.

"What? Who says there's a but?" Gene held his hands out in innocence, but that didn't last long. "Alright. Tell me what's going on or I'll stuff yer Red Dwarf videos in the turkey."

Simon gave a very deep sigh. Gene wasn't going to leave the subject alone.

"Keats has decided to dig up all the skeletons in my family's closet," he began reluctantly, "my mum had a few secrets. Now he's firing them off at me one by one like family-destroying missiles."

"Oh yes?" Gene could see from Simon's expression that whatever Keats had found was more than an old parking ticket. Now Simon had finally started to open up he didn't want to say the wrong thing and piss him off but he wasn't exactly adept at this kind of thing. He could have done with Alex being around. Fuck, yes, Alex would have known what to say. But since Gene had neither the psychology nor the gentle touch all he had was a _"so are you going to tell me what he's sent you or am I going to have to locate the nearest filing cabinet and use it as a Simon's Back-destroying Missile?"_

Surprisingly it seemed to do the trick.

"It seems," Simon began very quietly, staring into his mug and stirring his late even though he hadn't added any sugar, "that my mother was unfaithful;."

"Jesus," Gene realised a little too late that his response was probably not the most comforting, "sorry, must have been a shock to find that on yer doorstep."

"Putting it mildly," Simon said quietly.

Gene leaned forward a little. He was starting to realise a public café was probably not the best place for this conversation. Too late now though.

"And you're sure this is more than Jimbo sitting down with a pair of scissors and a pritt stick and playing Fantasy Shoebury League, making up something to get to you where all else failed?"

Simon shook his head.

"Not unless he's been taking voice acting lessons and developed a really fucking excellent impression of my parents," he said. He finally caught Gene's eye. "He sent me tapes from marriage guidance sessions. Papers and transcripts too. It's legit, Gene. She had a one night stand."

Gene lifted his mug and slurped down half his late in one go. He eyed Simon and couldn't help but point out,

"She wouldn't be the first, Simon. Don't let yer memory of her fall to bits over that." He hesitated, "wasn't that long ago someone not a million miles away from me made a_ mistake_ with a horned creature with a Ridgeley fixation."

"Thanks for bringing that up," Simon said crossly, "I hadn't exactly forgotten." He shook his head slowly, "difference is, Keats and I weren't exactly churning out offspring." He could feel Gene's eyes upon him as he closed his eyes momentarily. _"Question over paternity of child number three,"_ he quoted from the form, "always a comforting thing to read on your parents' marriage guidance form."

"Shit," Gene shook his head slowly, "Sorry." Now he really did feel out of his depth. He had no words of comfort and he didn't think threats were appropriate at this point.

"Now I feel like I don't even know who I am," Simon said quietly.

Gene hesitated.

"What's actually changed, Shoebury?"

"Well I don't even know if I'm a 'Shoebury' for a start!"

"But literally, what's changed? Apart from yer face looking more like a cabbage patch doll from all the extra wrinkles you've picked up this week?" He looked at Simon's baffled expression. "What's actually different?"

"I don't know if the man I've thought all my life was my father actually _is,"_ Simon pointed out the obvious.

"Who took you to school in the morning when you were a mini-Simon?" Gene asked.

Simon frowned.

"My dad."

"Who got you yer first Red Dwarf bloody T-shirt?"

"My dad."

"Who took the stabilisers off yer bike and taught yer to ride?"

Simon flushed.

"I, uh, actually never mastered the whole _two-wheeled bike _thing," he mumbled. He paused, "but yeah. My dad."

"If someone came up to you right now and told you for certain than yer dad bore no more of a resemblance to you DNA-wise than this rusty napkin dispenser," Gene held up the aforementioned object, "then would it change any of that?"

Simon hesitated.

"Maybe," he said quietly. He closed his eyes. "No."

"No."

"He'd still be my dad."

"Exactly," Gene finished his late and sat down the mug. "Sometimes it's about more than genetics, Shoebury. Whatever Jimbo digs up next remember what really makes a family." He froze then pulled a horrified face. "Ugh, must have put too much sugar in me latte, I'm talking like a bloody teenage romance novel."

Simon was going to question exactly how many teenage romance novels Gene read to know that but decided against it.

"I'll try to," he said quietly.

Gene got to his feet.

"Come on."

"I haven't finished my coffee yet!"

"Second new Christmas Eve tradition," Gene told him, "half-drunk latte abandoned in pursuit of alcohol. Think you need it."

Simon couldn't argue with that. He pushed himself away from the table, his chair legs scraping against the floor, then got to his feet.

"Not sure about _all_ these new traditions but I like the sound of that one," he said.

~xXx~

Eddie walked the streets, his head in a spin. His feet took him to familiar ground, the pub that his teenage years had focused around. So many happy memories, so many lively nights. But that night, his darkest memory would be created. In just… what, three? Four hours' time, _Eddie Part 1_ was going to be walking through the door with his friends and by the end of the night one of them would be lying in a mortuary.

"We'll see," Eddie mumbled quietly to himself as he stared at the pub doors, "maybe that's why I'm here. If there's a way…" he sighed. He didn't know what he was going to do or how he was going to do it but he wasn't going to stand by and let his best friend take the keys this time.

Things were going to be different. They had to be. Otherwise he didn't know if he would ever get home.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Sorry, one step forward, two steps back, so this is a shortish chapter. Hopefully I'll have more strength at the weekend and be able to write more. I would like to apologise in advance that the next few chapters – Eddie-addressing-the-past aside – are going to contain a large amount of fluff; so much fluff that you'll be reaching for the vacuum cleaner to get rid of the damn stuff. Sorry, but they've all had a crappy time so they at least deserve a (mostly happy) Christmas! And hey, there's snow outside right now – very fitting! :D Ah, damnit, now I 'm getting cravings for turkey!**_


	44. Chapter 44, 2011: Eve Arrives

**Chapter 23: 2011**

Sometimes in life there comes a bombshell so big that it completely wipes out the ability to communicate.

Silence fell at the kitchen table following Alex's spoken revelation, finally saying out loud what none of them had been bold enough to say. A long period passed where no one felt able to say a word. Finally when it became clear that nothing more was going to be consumed Robin cleared away the plates in silence while Kim wordlessly began to run a bowl of water to wash up. Alex was glad they had chores to do. She needed time alone to think so she quietly excused herself and slipped into her room.

She felt breathless and anxious; her heart was racing and her head was starting to ache. She was the one who'd said it out loud. She knew inside with every grain of her being that it was true. And yet it was just so hard to believe or to accept.

Even pushing out of her mind for a while the metaphysical impossibility of the prospect, she struggled to handle the fact that Gene could already have a son. Even if it hadn't been Simon, to discover out of the blue that her rock, her constant, had a 30-something year old offspring that neither of them knew about was a terrible shock to the system.

She felt… not jealous, exactly. Not angry either. She couldn't feel resentful for something that happened long before they met, and something that Gene clearly had no idea about. That was the thing, she realised - she felt a little upset that she hadn't known. But if _Gene_ didn't know then how could he have told her?

She felt a little angry at Gene for being so stupid in the first place. It was true that her own situation wasn't exactly planned but she and Gene had been in a relationship for more than a decade, they were engaged, living together – plus, they both knew the risk they were taking. A one night stand with a stranger and he didn't even take precautions? What was he thinking?

Alex sighed and cursed herself. What the hell was _she_ dong, giving mental lectures to someone who wasn't even there about his lack of birth control decades ago? This wasn't getting her anywhere. She shook her head and paced the best that she could, up and down. She was still not entirely steady on her feet so her pacing was slow and steady, which was more than could be said for her pulse.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment as she thought about the reality of the situation. However this had even been possible, the day was going to come - she hoped and prayed - that she was going to get home. What then? What kind of a romantic reunion was she going to have with Gene when she would run to him, be scooped into his arms and whisper to him quietly;

"_Gene, did you know you had a long lost son? Oh, and by the way, it's Simon."_

"God, Gene," she scowled at her flip chart. It was the closest thing she had to scowling at Gene himself, "why have I been left with this dilemma? What am I supposed to say to you next time I see you? Hmm? This shouldn't be my job!"

She gave a very deep sigh and wished that they had never even found out about Simon. It would have been far better to never know. As much of a shock as it had come to her she couldn't imagine how Gene was going to handle it. It wasn't even as though this was a random person – it was _Simon_. Gene had a gay geek as a son. No matter what kind of friendship they'd built up he was still going to have some issues with that. He was going to take that as some kind of a blow to his manliness.

And what about Simon? His natural father had thrown him against the filing cabinet more times than he'd had hot dinners. Literally, in fact. A worse realisation came to her as she remembered asking Simon whether he had a crush on Gene. Shit, he'd had the hots for his own _father_ for the last year. Oh, well _that_ was going to go down a treat, wasn't it? She honestly didn't know who was going to be more traumatised by this discovery.

She closed her eyes and sank into a chair as the revelation became too much to deal with. Was this the real reason for her return to 2011? To discover the truth? And now that she had, how was she supposed to use that information to get home again?

"I wish I knew the answer," she whispered.

~xXx~

"Rob? Are you alright?"

It was such a simple question but Robin couldn't even answer it. Was he alright? Well, he wasn't being kidnapped by Nick Nailer or tied up by Keats, but '_alright'_ was a bit of a stretch. He turned over slowly to face Kim. They were back in bed. It was all they could do to keep from going crazy, to retreat to a place they felt safe.

"I knew Simon for fourteen years," he said quietly, "and now it feels like I never really 'knew' him at all."

"He's still the same person you knew for all that time." Kim reminded him gently, "Just because his paternity isn't what you thought it was, it doesn't change anything. He's still Simon."

"I know I know," Robin couldn't really find the words to explain, "but it's like there was a whole part of his history that was… _wrong_. Fabricated. He never even knew it. What happens if one of us ends up back over there? You know how close the worlds have been, Kim. We've both felt it for months. What if one of us gets hit by a car tomorrow and wakes up back in some nineteen ninety crappy year? Now we know we can't unlearn it. We'd have to tell him. I just can't…" he shook his head, "I can't imagine how the hell I'd do that."

Kim felt a heaviness in her chest as she thought about Robin's words. It was true. She hadn't even thought about that part of it. To keep quiet about something so big would be impossible, but to try to explain it? Even more so.

"Shit."

Robin looked at her with a dark look on his face.

"And of all people," he began quietly, "_Gene Hunt?_ It's ridiculous. It doesn't make any fucking sense."

"Gene's not that bad," Kim tried to assure him, "I know he and Simon had their differences but they managed to find a kind of friendship in the end. You were only there for a few days, Rob. I was there a long time. You need to get to know Gene. Everyone feels that way at first, it's all… filing cabinets and insults." She paused, "and latte runs. But then you start to find out why Gene is so good at what he does. You start to see that actually not only is his heart in the right place but he really makes a difference to that world." She hesitated, unsure whether to share the realisation she'd come upon. "In fact, they're not so different. In _fact_, they've probably got more in common than I realised. Or than they'd like to think."

She thought about Gene and Simon's personalities and taking Simon's geekery out of the equation they were actually pretty similar. That was one of the reasons they clashed so much, she came to realise. The more she thought about it the more physical similarities there were between them too; both with blue eyes and fair hair, fairly similar features. Of course Simon had a couple of inches height advantage over Gene while Gene had the bulk and physical strength but there was a certain resemblance that now she'd noticed she couldn't un-see.

"Is this why he died?"

Robin's question caught Kim a little off guard.

"What do you mean?"

Robin swallowed.

"If the impossible has happened and somehow Gene Hunt is Simon's real father then was Simon always going to die young?" There were unspilt tears in Robin's eyes that he was trying hard to hold back, "what is it, some kind of _key to the kingdom _thing? Was Simon always supposed to go there? "

"I don't think he _wants_ the key to the kingdom, he hated every minute of what he was doing," Kim said quietly, not sure whether that was any kind of comfort or not, "Rob, we can talk about this all night and I don't think we're really going to understand it any better than we do right now. Maybe we never will. Or maybe, when we all head to Manchester, we'll find something that will help things fall into place. But please, _please_ don't torture yourself about this," she watched him with concern, "you've been through enough this year." She paused. "Think of your condition," she said as she poked him in the belly.

"Not funny, Kim," he protested, but there was a tiny flicker of a smile. He closed his eyes and drew closer to Kim, just needing the warmth and comfort of her presence beside him. He felt as though everything he knew about the man he'd spent so many years of his life with had shattered around him.

~xXx~

For the next two days it felt as though a strange kind of trance had fallen over Alex, Robin and Kim. There was a strange numbness about them all. No one really knew what to say or to do. Everything felt awkward and difficult, and as Christmas day grew nearer it seemed as though nothing was going to break the spell that the impossible news had cast over the household. Finally, the day before Christmas Eve, Kim couldn't take any more. The tension was killing her inside, seeing two people that she cared about so much hurt by one discovery was dragging her down. She felt exhausted and stressed, she couldn't eat and couldn't sleep. As much as she wanted to bring them comfort she was struggling to keep herself going. Her exhaustion had reached such a point where she knew she needed to do something so she made a decision and hoped that Alex and Robin could agree to it.

"We can't carry on this way," she told them, "none of us. It's killing us all. The fact is that we're not going to find any answers yet; they won't come until either we go to Manchester, or…" she paused, her eyes turning to Alex, "or when you find your way home, ma'am." She watched Alex nodding slowly. "and to be honest, if we carry on this way none of us are going to be in any state to even _go_ to Manchester. Ma'am, you're pregnant. It's only been two months since you woke up. You'd started to get so much stronger but now you're..." she hesitated and bit her lip. She felt awkward lecturing someone who she still thought of as being, on some level, her superior, but her concern had grown tremendously, "you look so pale. You need to start eating and sleeping again."

"I could give the same advice to someone not a million miles away from me," Alex said with concern. She'd noticed Kim's behaviour changing too, her drawn appearance and avoidance of food and sleep. Kim sighed and looked down.

"I know," she said quietly, "this Christmas is hard enough." Since her separation from Linda, it was going to be her first Christmas without her boys. In fact, Linda had taken the cruel step of taking them away for Christmas so that she wouldn't even be able to see them until the new year. The divorce was coming closer to being finalised, Kim knew it was a matter of weeks now until she'd be a free woman, but she knew that she had given up so much to step away from Linda's manipulative behaviour and cruel tongue.

"I wanted to make this Christmas special for you," Robin said quietly, certain that the news of the week had put paid to that.

"And I did for you too," Kim told him. She knew that he'd spent the previous Christmas - his first without Simon – working his way up to taking his own life. The progress he'd made within the last year had been phenomenal and she'd wanted him to have a special Christmas to celebrate that. But all their plans had been wiped out by a severe ponytail by the name of Hamilton. "So we need to do something. Before we all go crazy," Kim told them both, "hard as it will be, I say we need to make a deal not to talk or think about this for the next three days at least. There's nothing that we can do until we are able to start finding out more about who Gene was when he was alive. We're just going to go over and over the same things in our heads. Concentrate on one thing at a time. Christmas first, then metaphysical conception issues."

She looked from one to the other as Robin and Alex exchanged glances. Neither knew how they were going to manage to put it out of their minds but they both had to agree that dwelling on it 24 hours a day was killing them inside.

"Alright," Robin said quietly, "I'll try."

"Me too," Alex nodded slowly.

"Can't make any promises though," Robin warned.

Kim gave a tired smile.

"As long as you try. That's all I'm asking," she said quietly.

Alex could see that Kim had developed a very wise head on her shoulders over the years. She gave a distant smile as she thought about the irascible young lady who'd first arrived on Gene's world. In many ways she was so different now – although her telephone manner a few days earlier had gone to show that she still had all her bite, as well as her bark, when she needed them.

It was going to be a bittersweet Christmas for Alex, revelations aside. Her heart was already stinging from the fact that she wouldn't be with Gene at Christmas for the first time in a decade and a half. She was going to find that difficult to deal with. But she had been invited by Moll's foster mother to join them for Christmas lunch, allowing her to spend her first Christmas with Molly in so very many years. She knew inside that it would also be her last. She had horrible feeling that Molly knew it too. It was going to be a very strange Christmas for everyone.

Just maybe it would still be a happy one, despite all the odds.

~xXx~

Robin groaned and glared at the ringing alarm clock. OK, it seemed to be suggesting it was half past six and that had to be wrong. The only reason he got up at half past six was if he really, _really_ needed baked beans on toast. He knew neither of them were in at work, so what the hell was the alarm clock doing on? He rubbed his eyes as Kim slipped out of bed and killed the din, then glanced at him a little guiltily.

"Oops, sorry, did it wake you?" she asked.

Robin looked at her incredulously.

"It's… an alarm clock, that's its job," he pointed out.

"Sorry," said Kim.

Robin shuffled up in bed and watched in bemusement as Kim started to get dressed.

"Am I having a nightmare?" he mumbled, "only, it's half past six on Christmas Eve and you appear be getting out of bed. And dressed."

"It's on my schedule," Kim told him, hopping as she attempted to get her foot into her jeans in the darkness which led to toppling over quite spectacularly. _"Argh!"_

Feeling confused, not to mention sleepy, Robin slipped out of bed to help her to her feet.

"What kind of weird arsed schedule is this?" he asked, _"Six thirty three a.m., fall over pulling on your pants?"_

Kim blushed as he helped her up.

"I used to make schedules all the time on Christmas eve," she said a little apologetically, "I'd make lists of all the festive crap on TV that I wanted to watch to get me in the Christmas spirit. I even did it when I was in ninety five." She pulled a face, "Simon didn't approve though."

"Schedules and festive crap I can get behind, but I'd rather of you put the light on next time you try to put your jeans on," Robin told her as she finally got both legs in their proper places, "you don't need broken bones or concussion this Christmas."

Kim gave Robin a slightly awkward smile.

"I could never do my list with Linda around," she said quietly, "she didn't approve either."

"Well consider your schedule approved," Robin told her, "at least, once I see what's on it. May I?"

Kim handed him her notebook and he switched on the lamp beside the bed. His eyes scanned the list and, slightly outraged, he cried, "I can't believe you were going to watch _Arthur's Perfect Christmas_ without me!"

"I thought you'd laugh at me," Kim admitted.

"Yeah, right, this is me we're talking about here, more vintage kids TV on video than you'll find on YouTube." He couldn't help but smile, "plus, there's something here for everyone – crappy cartoons for me and lists for Alex. Everybody wins." His eyes continued along the list. "I notice you've put an awful lot of food breaks in here."

"Christmas makes me hungry," Kim told him.

"Exactly who is going to cater for all these refreshments?"

"Don't worry, for once you can lay your apron down to rest."

"I don't wear a bloody apron! Robin cried indignantly.

"I'm in charge of food today."

Robin hesitated.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

Robin hesitated.

"You complained enough when we were just making sandwiches the other day," he reminded her. "You even managed to burn one… even though we were nowhere near the oven or toaster…"

"I make an exception at Christmas," Kim told him.

Robin held up his hands.

"Alright, alright, if you're sure," he said. He continued to look over Kim's schedule and cleared his throat. "I, uh, also notice there are several items on here that you generally need two people for," he commented, starting to feel slightly hot in the face, "do you need a volunteer?"

Kim bit her lip.

"I did have someone in mind for the task," she said.

~xXx~

Alex ran to the kitchen, looking for bleach to erase the memory of what she'd just witnessed. Why had no one _actually_ invented brain bleach yet? Or eye bleach? Or _ear_ bleach for that matter. She had now learnt her lesson the hard way not to go running to the rescue if you think you hear someone being tortured when you are staying in someone else's home.

_Mental note: Torture noises and sex noises aren't all that different_, she told herself as she considered a brain transplant to erase what she'd seen. She remembered raiding Simon's DVD collection when she'd been hiding out earlier in the year and watching _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_. What she wouldn't give for that procedure to be real.

Between the sight of Kim wearing… _that _equipment… Robin apologetically explaining that the event had been 'scheduled' and Kim's unnecessary explanation of _'it's, uh… it's_ _called pegging, ma'am,'_ she didn't think she would ever sleep again.

Ever.

Nor would she be able to look either of them in the eye.

She couldn't bring herself to turn around as she heard Kim's embarrassed footsteps shuffle into the kitchen.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry!" she pleaded, "I thought I locked the door!"

"I thought someone was being murdered!" Alex told her, her hand clutched to her chest as though she was having a heart attack, "If _you_ heard screaming what would _you_ have done?"

"I'm sorry!" Kim's face couldn't possibly have been any redder, "I'll…. I'll make him wear a gag next time…"

Alex blanched.

"Please, don't!" she cried. She covered her eyes. "Oh my god, I don't think I will ever sleep again."

"I'm sorry!" Kim apologised again, "it… it's not like I never walked in on you and Gene though…"

"That was different!" Alex protested.

"How?"

"Well I wasn't wearing – _that_ – for a start," Alex's brain almost exploded.

"No, but at least we were in the privacy of our own bedroom," Kim protested, "it wasn't safe to visit the stationery cupboard for about five months!"

An extremely flustered and ashamed Robin shuffled into the kitchen, biting so hard on his lip that he was in danger of drawing blood.

"Alex –" he began.

"I know, I know," Alex covered her eyes, unable to look at him, "you're sorry, I get it… maybe next time you can remember that having a houseguest who is also a detective means their first reaction is to come running when they hear screaming."

"Sorry," mumbled Robin.

Kim busily tried to make up for Alex's early morning shock by making her a cup of coffee and getting started on breakfast.

"I'm in charge of food today," she explained.

Suddenly the sexual exploits of Robin and Kim were the least of Alex's worries.

"You?" she cried, realising a moment too late how rude that sounded.

"What's wrong with that?" Kim pouted.

Alex swallowed.

"Kim, I haven't exactly forgotten _Come Dine With me_," she said, "we spent the evening drawing charcoal sketches with what was supposed to be your main course."

"I've improved," Kim lied. She was no more adept in the kitchen now than she'd been eight years ago. She just hoped that maybe living with Robin had somehow left some of his cookery skill floating around for her to tap into.

Alex glanced at Robin with an anxious look on her face.

"Excuse me for a moment," she said and hurried to the bathroom to check the bathroom medicine cabinet.

She might not have been able to use brain bleach but she could at least make sure there was plenty of indigestion remedies at the ready, just in case.

A fire extinguisher might have been a good idea too.


	45. Chapter 23, 1996: Closing Doors

_**A/N: Sorry, struggling this week so this is a shorter chapter but the next one is far longer. Prepare for stupid festive fluff :) Morgana – thank Geoff for his oh-so-kind present – I laughed so much! :D**_

**Chapter 23: 1996**

Gene watched a little curiously as Simon closed the front door, fastened the chain and gave a strange little sigh.

"What's that for? Think we're under attack from rabid reindeer?" he asked.

Simon felt a little silly.

"Sorry," he said, "something I used to do on Christmas Eve."

"It's good to practice home security all year round you know, Shoebury," Gene folded his arms.

"No, I mean…" Simon closed his eyes and sighed. "Forget it."

"No, no, you've got me attention now," said Gene, "might as well learn another Shoebury quirk."

Simon eyed him suspiciously. He had a horrible feeling there would be taunting to follow.

"It's just… Christmas eve," he said, "it's sort of symbolic. Get home from work, close the door, put the chain on and know that's it."

"What do you mean, _that's it?"_ Gene demanded, "Worried Santa's going to murder us in our beds? You had a very twisted childhood if so, Simon."

"I mean, shutting out the world," said Simon, "that's it now. Whatever you forgot to buy or didn't get chance to do, it's too late. Whatever the world tries to throw at you, that's it. Too late now. The next couple of days you're in a weird bubble, where everything else falls by the wayside. Just you, your family –" he trailed off as his words brought back the discovery of the week, "whatever that actually is."

Gene looked from Simon to the chain across the door.

"OK," he said, "fair enough. I get it." He paused, "It's just…"

Simon waited for the inevitable comeback.

"What?" he demanded.

Gene nodded to the door.

"how's the pizza delivery stooge going to deliver?"

Simon sighed and closed his eyes.

"Alright, fine, didn't know we were having pizza," he said unlatching the door, "consider the world still open until he's been, then I'm shutting the rest of Fenchurch out."

~xXx~

Eddie suddenly felt enormously uncomfortable sitting alone at the table in the corner of the pub. The moment he saw an extremely familiar face enter he started to wonder of this was right. Should he be doing this? Was he going to hurt anything by messing with things this way? He didn't know much about paradoxes. He thought they were a brand of lavatory cleaner.

But there he was, several years younger, a whole gathering of his mates around him. He wished that he could just go up and warn them but he could just imagine what the 18 year old version of him would have done in response. No, there had to be another way.

He watched and waited as the rowdy crowd got a round in. They were all so happy, cheerful, excited. Life was just beginning. He would give anything to swap places with the other Eddie.

He could feel his hands shaking and his leg twitching. He needed to act now. He had to get it over with before he lost his nerve. Quickly he downed the rest of his pint and got to his feet. This was his one opportunity to take on time, and it suddenly felt like a very formidable opponent.

~xXx~

"Alright, now can I put the chain on?" Simon asked a little sarcastically as the pizza delivery man left and two large boxes sat on the table, exuding steam.

"Now that the poor sod isn't going to have to post them piece by piece through the letterbox, go ahead," said Gene.

With a sigh Simon bolted the door for the second time and walked through to the kitchen where the pizzas were waiting.

"I swear, if you stay much longer I'm going to actually turn _into_ a pizza," he said, only slightly sarcastically, "that's all we ever eat. I'm going to have to change my name to Simon Cheesebury."

He slumped into a chair and began to dig into his pizza while Gene fetched a couple of beers from the fridge. As he collected the cans he stopped to glare angrily at the turkey; the turkey that he had somehow managed to rope himself into cooking the following day. To say he was bricking it was an understatement. After his strange, miraculous cookery genius moment from the weekend before he had returned to his previous level of cuisine. Fry-ups were about his limit. Beyond that it was into fishy biscuit territory.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do with the big bloody bird in the fridge. He vaguely knew he was supposed to stuff it but he didn't know what with. Cotton wool? He remembered something about Paxo. Had he remembered to get any? He wasn't sure. And wasn't stuffing supposed to come in balls? Or was he thinking of snooker? It was all too hard to contemplate.

Still. He tried to look on the bright side, at least it was a perfect excuse to spend most of the day hiding in the kitchen, drinking scotch and avoiding whatever Simon was going to put on TV.

"You got any sprouts?" he asked as he closed the fridge and took the cans to the table. Simon spluttered with a half-laugh, half-gag.

"Ugh, no way," he pulled a face, "we've been inhaling them passively for the last three weeks in the canteen, I wasn't planning to consume any more than was perfectly necessary."

"Good man," Gene sat down and opened his box. As he started to eat the pizza he realised he could barely taste it. He wasn't coming down with a cold, was he? Nah, that never happened. Gene Hunt did not succumb to girly colds. Man flu maybe, but not girly colds. He felt fine. Well, physically anyway. He stared at the cheesy mess in front of him as he took another bite. It felt like his senses were all dulling. Things didn't taste right or smell right or feel right any more. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but more and more since Alex woke up – and especially since he'd been more or less sober – he just couldn't connect with the world.

He felt as though he was losing his grasp on what was real. He felt more or less numb through and through. He couldn't really explain it any better than that. It was as though when Alex awoke he slowly started conditioning himself not to feel anything, to fight the pain of being alone, and now that was creeping through into every other aspect of his life.

Not for the first time, his thoughts turned to Manchester. _Home_. The place he'd spent most of his life. He longed for a little familiarity. He tried not to think about it but the more he tried to push it from his mind the more it came back to him, quite insistently.

_Get Christmas over with first,_ he thought to himself. _Get rid of Christmas, tell the year to bugger off and then see. _

He had tried to fight the urge to take a trip back home but the appeal was getting stronger. There was nothing left for him in Fenchurch any longer. More than that, the thought of passing through the doors of the Railway Arms was looking more appealing all the time.

Two weeks. He'd give himself a fortnight, and if he didn't feel any differently -

He sighed. He didn't even like to admit to himself where his thoughts were leading.

~xXx~

Eddie's heart was racing as he walked swiftly through the doors of the pub. He turned his head slightly so that he couldn't be recognised – he knew he'd changed a lot from his eighteen-year-old self but didn't want to take the risk. He swallowed hard and wiped his sweating palms on his trousers. Why was he so nervous? This wasn't even the real world. Why was he even _doing_ this? _Oh god, is a heart supposed to beat this rapidly?_

He waked to the car park and his eyes scanned the vehicles around him. He knew right away which one was Andy's car. Hell, he'd received enough lifts in his teenage days to recognise it anywhere, even after so many years. He looked around him anxiously as he walked closer to the car. God, was he really going to do this?

His hand closed around the penknife in his pocket and pulled it out quickly. He drew in a deep breath before he flicked out the blade. It was now or never, now or never…

Quickly, he plunged the blade hard into one of the tyres. A strange feeling overcame him as he did so – fear, hope, trepidation, all mixed into one. He pushed the blade in as far as it would go before he pulled it back out, not without some difficulty and plunged it in for a second time.

As the tyre began to slowly deflate and he tugged the knife from the rubber again he moved onto the next tyre, and the next, and the next. Four tyres in quick succession, slashed, hissing, spluttering, dying before his very eyes. He was shaking so hard that he could barely flick the blade away.

Eventually something clicked in his head and he knew that he had to take action. It was time to leave, to make a hasty exit before anyone saw him. His legs began to move and he found himself fleeing the car park, every limb trembling along the way. He'd done it now. He'd given it the best shot that he could. Now all he could do was to stand back and wait, to see whether he could change the past, to see if Andy would live to see Christmas – and to see if he would wake up, tomorrow, back home.

The world had outstayed its welcome. He needed to find the exit. He just hoped this was the right way out.


	46. Chapter 24, 2011: Festive Crappery

_**A/N: Content warning for fluff, cheese, sentimentality and out-of-season festive cheer :) Serious note, having a lot of difficulty typing, please excuse poor quality of this chapter x**_

**Chapter 24: 2011**

There was a stunned silence in the kitchen broken only by the sound of bread scraping up the last of the fried tomato on Kim's plate. Suddenly the DNA testing was only the second biggest shock of the week.

"You didn't… burn… _anything_," Alex's eyes were wide and confused as she turned to Kim, "and… everything… tasted… like it was _supposed_ to."

"Ye of little faith," Kim said triumphantly, shoving the last lump of tomatoey bread into her mouth.

"And you haven't…wiped us out… with food poisoning," Alex's shock continued.

"Must be the Christmas spirit," said Kim as she leaned back and pushed her plate away.

Robin had been sitting in an utterly shocked silence for a very long time. Finally he shook his head and turned to her with wide eyes.

"Fuck," he exclaimed.

Kim couldn't help but feel smug.

"Told you," she said, "I make an exception at Christmas." She paused and added a little guiltily, "and it helps that the one thing I can actually cook is a fry up."

"I knew you were slowly turning into Gene," Alex teased, "don't tell me, you learned through the fine art of the hangover."

"Got it in one," said Kim. She got to her feet, laid down her napkin, muffled a belch and said smugly, "now if you two non-believers will excuse me, I have festive animated crap to watch."

Robin stared after her in shock, then with his mouth still gaping wide open he turned to Alex.

"Five months she's been living here, and I had no idea," he protested, "until today every attempt at tackling the kitchen has resulted in either food poisoning or a visit from the fire brigade."

"Kim always was full of surprises," was all Alex could muster as she stared at the row of empty plates on the table, "either that, or it's a Christmas miracle."

Robin slowly got to his feet and began to clear away the plates.

"I'll wash these up," he told Alex, "you go and join Kim with the festive crappery on TV."

Alex gave a slightly laden smile.

"Actually, I think I might give the festive crappery a miss for a short while," she said, "there are a few things I need to do. Do you need any help with the dishes first?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," said Robin, "see you in a bit."

Alex nodded thankfully and disappeared to her room. There was something that had been on her mind for the last couple of days.

"I know I'm not supposed to be thinking about this until Christmas is over," she mumbled as she reached for a pen and settled herself at a fresh page of the flip chart, "but how can I not?" Her first Christmas eve without Gene for sixteen years felt sad and awkward, despite the slap-up breakfast and the hospitality that Robin and Kim had shown, despite the unexpected early morning porn show. She couldn't stop thinking about home and getting back to Gene. She felt more settled now that she at least had a date in mind, but working up to that date… she had so much to finish; so many loose ends of her own to tie up.

She began to write the dates between that very day and her deadline down the left hand side of the chart, then one by one she began to fill in all the things that she knew she needed to do. If she had to shuffle them then that was fine but she needed some kind of a guide. Kim wasn't the only one with schedules on the brain that day.

The first few were easy. It was Christmas, there wasn't much that she could do.

_**24**__**th**__**: Today, festive crappery**_

_**25**__**th**__**: Christmas Day, Christmas lunch with Molly.**_

_**26**__**th**__**: Boxing day, boring, boring, horrible pointless day with cold cuts and lashings of post-xmas depression.**_

_**27**__**th**__**: stupid pointless bank holiday that means nothing, even more boring, bluh bluh.**_

Alright. That was the festive period dealt with. Now it was time to pencil in the more important stuff. She bit her lip a little nervously as she began to fill in the next few days.

_**28**__**th**__**: Kim's Desk – My Desk? **_

She had to see it for herself. She wasn't going to rest until, she'd seen that number with her own eyes.

_**29**__**th**__**: Plan route and itinerary for Manchester **_

She knew that was a big one. It wasn't just a point of going to Manchester and then expecting everything to fall into place. She had to have a plan. She would gladly spend a day surrounded by maps, files and Google to help her plan out how to spend her trip up North most wisely.

_**30**__**th**__**: Visit Evan. **_

She actually found herself shaking a little as she stared at that point on the list. It was something she had to do – not necessarily something she _wanted_ to do. But this was about laying her own demons to rest before she could help to do the same for Gene. She needed to leave the real world behind with no unfinished business. This was an important step.

Then it all descended into mockery again;

_**31**__**st**__**: New Year 's Eve, probably not going to get anything done except hoping that Robin doesn't get a champagne cork in his eye.**_

_**1**__**st**__** Jan: New Year. Spend day laughing a Kim getting over hangover from night before.**_

_**2**__**nd**__**: More pointless bank holidays. Be bored and hope that it passes quickly.**_

She took a deep breath as she returned to more serious matters.

_**3**__**rd**__**: Mum and Dad **_

She felt a lump in her throat as she wrote that point out. Gene's wasn't the only final resting place she needed to see before she could move on.

_**4**__**th**__**: Molly – goodbye. **_

Her pen hesitated over that point for quite some time before she could bring herself to write it. Tears were welling in her eyes as she thought about it. She knew she wasn't coming back from this and needed to give both of them closure. It was something they had never had the luxury of before.

**5****th****: Robin and Kim **

She wrote that without entirely knowing what she needed to do or why, but she had a feeling that they would need some time to tie things up together. At the very least she owed them a great deal of thanks for their support and help. More than that, she couldn't shake the feeling they both had their own parts to play on whatever would follow.

_**6**__**th**__**: Goodbye world. **_

That was all she wrote. One last day. One last day of existing.

_**7**__**th**__**: Manchester. Then Home.**_

Somehow writing those final two lines caused something to stir deep inside her. All the waiting, the fighting, the work she'd put into recuperating so that she could find her way home, and now the future was all planed out before her.

Two weeks. That was all she had left to say goodbye to her old life and to the real world. While her decision had never changed it suddenly felt so much more real, looking at it this way.

Two more weeks. So near, and yet so far.

~xXx~

Even Robin felt a little like he was reaching maximum festive crappery saturation point as he lay on the couch with Kim beside him. He wasn't going to admit to it though because that might mean disturbing the comforting position they'd managed to find, side by side, spooning tightly so that Kim didn't plunge off the edge of the sofa. One year ago he'd been working up to ending his life. It felt like a nightmare to look back upon it now.

He tried to get a look at the schedule laying open on the floor, hoping that whatever _hilarious_ Santa Claus-based movie madness they'd been watching was going to come to an end soon but he couldn't quite see. _Damnit_. It had to be over soon, he was sure. Santa had already lost five of his eight reindeer and quite frankly it was looking highly unlikely that anyone was going to have a merry Christmas by that point, no matter how many piles of reindeer doings Santa _hilariously_ slipped in.

He heard the sound of Kim's stomach starting to growl and felt her shuffling uncomfortably.

"Jesus, you can't be hungry after that breakfast you cooked," he cried.

"I've barely eaten for days, I'm catching up," Kim protested. She flapped Robin's hand away in embarrassment as he tried to rub her rumbling stomach and tumbled from the couch. "I'm going to get some biscuits."

Robin had a clear view of the schedule at last.

"This is an unscheduled snack," he pointed out but received only a rude gesture in return.

Just as Kim returned with some kind of gaudy festive biscuit selection she'd found in the kitchen Alex made her way slowly into the room too. Her cheeks were a little pink and her eyes were puffy. She had clearly been crying but both Robin and Kim knew she wouldn't thank them for pointing that out. There was a moment of awkwardness where no one knew quite what to say before Kim broke the silence with the offer off food.

"Biscuit?"

Alex wasn't hungry but the distraction alone was enough for her to take one. She sat down turning the crumbly snack over and over in her fingers until she pulled her strength together and looked at them both seriously.

"I just wanted to let you know," she began, "that two weeks from today is the day."

"What day?" Kim asked quietly.

"The day I find my route home," Alex said a little nervously, "Starting with a journey to Manchester." She hesitated as she realised she hadn't even asked if Robin or Kim were working that weekend. "Will… will you both be able to join me?"

"Alex, you know we'll be there," Robin said without hesitation.

"I'm supposed to be tattooing but I'll get the studio to keep my diary clear and swap days," Kim nodded.

Alex nodded gratefully.

"Thank you," she said quietly. She felt a little churned up inside. She wanted to get back home more than anything but it all felt so final now. The next two weeks were going to be very difficult and emotional, but she knew the prize at the end of the journey would be worthwhile.

~xXx~

As the day went on and more festive crappery came and went so lunchtime passed with a number of glitches.

"I'm glad we had such a big breakfast," Robin commented, choking a little on the thick smoke that still hung in the air, "I had no idea it was possible to burn toasted sandwiches that badly."

"Kim still ate them though," Alex commented, wrinkling g up her nose. She was a little disappointed. She was hoping for a repeat of the _Come Dine With Me _charcoal sketches.

"That's how she likes them, apparently," Robin gagged a little.

"Oi, leave my taste in toasties alone," Kim frowned.

Robin bit his lip and tried not to laugh.

"Sorry," he said quietly. He watched her disposing of the charred remains of a sandwich in the bin before asking, "hey, if you're going to eat burnt toasties then can you make me some fishy biscuits?"

It was Kim's turn to gag.

"Not unless you want to pay for the course of counselling I'm going to need afterwards," she told him.

Alex looked at Kim's schedule.

"She actually scheduled this in," she said, impressed.

"What do you mean?" Robin looked over.

"Look: _Twelve thirty: make lunch. Twelve forty-five, dispose of burnt remains in the bin."_

"I'm highly efficient in scheduling culinary disasters," Kim told them.

Once the charred remains were cleared away and lunch was forgotten about it was back to an afternoon of festive crappery. Alex couldn't help but think about Christmas back home and how she would have been spending the day if she'd been at home with Gene. She felt a pang of sadness as she realised that their Christmas would have been very different that year, they were due to have been married in the autumn and the baby would have been born by now too. Not that she wasn't eternally grateful for the miracle that had brought her baby back with her when she awoke but she'd been so excited about the idea of her first Christmas. Although she and Gene hadn't had long to get used to the prospect of parenthood before she left his world they'd had a couple of conversations that had been positively whimsical for Gene; momentary thoughts about donning Santa costumes and hoovering up any snacks that were left out for the red-suited one. They were only short conversations and usually followed up with some kind of gruff remark from Gene to take the emphasis away from the thoughts he'd slipped up in spilling but she hadn't forgotten them. Not a moment of them.

"What are you smiling about, ma'am?" Kim asked curiously, shaking Alex from her thoughts. She glanced up and noticed that the time had moved on swiftly since she'd started thinking about how Christmas should have been.

"Sorry," she said with a smile, "I was just thinking about something."

"Was that 'something' cookery lessons for Kim?" Robin teased, earning him a sharp elbow in the ribs. "Ow!"

"Bloody cheek of it!" Kim cried, "you're just sore because I won't make you fishy biscuits."

"No, I'm sore because _someone_ just elbowed me in the ribs," Robin told her, trying not to laugh.

Alex sank back against the cushions behind her and let her mind drift away again as they continued to squabble. They reminded her of herself and Gene in an increasing number of ways. One of the more obscure things that she missed most about Gene was the banter they shared. It was one of the cornerstones of their relationship and something that she had always enjoyed.

She was starting to depress herself now, thinking of more things that she was missing out on. She had to focus on her two weeks – she could get through two weeks. She'd be home soon. She had to be.

~xXx~

"I…" Robin didn't want to seem ungrateful. He wasn't sure how to put it. "I… really appreciate you taking on the cooking today," he cleared his throat as he looked at the mound of fried foods on the table, "but… two fry-ups in one day?"

"It's apparently the only thing I can safely cook," Kim's voice carried a mix of disappointment, sarcasm and blunt honesty, "I didn't want the fire brigade round for a second time so I…"

"…Cooked another fry up?" Alex peered through the kitchen door. She'd smelt the familiar scent of bacon and sausages but thought her mind was playing tricks on her. They'd had a big fry-up for breakfast – she didn't think for a moment Kim would cook a second one. But there it was, a mountain of greasy goodness. "Uh, I'm not feeling all that hungry actually," she said awkwardly. She had genuinely enjoyed the unhealthy fare that morning – the memory of the hospital's cardboard cuisine had made her appreciate proper food so much more – but the only person she knew who could manage two fry ups in one day was Gene.

"Oh, come on, I just spent the last half hour on this!" Kim protested, "my hands actually ache from all the bacon-flipping and sausage-turning!"

Robin cautiously sank into a chair and reluctantly picked up his fork.

"Maybe I'll just have the beans," he said.

Kim felt her spirits sinking as she started tucking into the meal. She knew two fry-ups in one day was pushing it but in all honestly she really wasn't the kitchen dweller type. She would be glad to hand back food duties to Robin the following day. She knew what her strengths were and unfortunately cooking wasn't one of them.

But she did cook a mean fry-up.

~xXx~

The evening was approaching and Alex felt subdued. It was strange but until that night the one thing she seemed to have avoided was feeling terribly lonely in bed. She supposed it was because she'd spent so many nights in hospital, being prodded and poked at regular intervals all through the night that she was thankful to finally sleep in a proper bed with no interruptions. But knowing it was Christmas eve, she felt incredibly alone as she stared at the sofa bed, contemplating when to head to bed.

"It's not Christmas without you," she said quietly to herself, just wishing that Gene could somehow hear her words.

And it wasn't. It really wasn't. For all the bells and whistles, for all the effort that Robin and Kim had put in to including her in their festive celebrations, for all the pretty lights strung around the window… it still wasn't Christmas.

Her mind went back to the year before; Christmas 1995, her risqué Santa outfit waiting to be worn, a renewed bond with Gene and security that she had made her decision to stay in his world. She remembered dressing the tree together, despite Gene's protests. She remembered feeling so much closer to him than ever after the separation they'd been through. She thought that making the decision was enough to keep her by his side, but there was one factor she couldn't account for.

She looked down to her bump; it was becoming extremely noticeable now. She knew she was well and truly past the _'is she pregnant or has she just had a rather large fry-up?' stage_. It hurt that Gene wasn't there to see it. She wished more than anything that he was by her side as her body changed and the little kicks grew stronger. She ran her hand across her stomach as she thought back to her scan, discovering that the baby inside of her was a little girl. She gave a slight smile. At least she had one part of Gene with her.

She sank onto the bed and opened the drawer beside it, looking for something. She frowned and looked a little harder. It had been on the top, she was sure of it. Where the hell had it gone? She knew the scan picture had been right there, she had just been looking at it the day before. With a sense of panic and anxiety running down her spine she carefully emptied the drawer one item at a time, checking inside things, under things, behind things – still no sign. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment. Where the hell was her precious picture?

~xXx~

"I can't believe a while day of festive crappery has been and gone," Robin said as he and Kim settled down for, bizarrely, a programme about the most popular gadgets of all time. It wasn't the most festive programme they'd watched all day but so far it was the one that had caused the most outrage – putting toasters at number 97? How _dare_ they?

Kim drew up her knees and mumbled something non-committal. Her lack of enthusiasm made Robin turn to look at her. She looked a little pale and uncomfortable.

"Kim? You alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Kim said quietly but her posture told a different story.

"No you're not, what's wrong?" Robin asked. He bit his lip. "Have you got a stomach ache or something?"

"Maybe a bit," Kim mumbled.

"See, that's why you shouldn't eat two fry ups in one day," Robin told her.

"Thanks, _mum_," Kim sighed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to lecture," Robin promised her, "just… come here." He pulled her back against him and gently started to rub her stomach, "bloody hell, how much have you eaten today anyway?"

"Its Christmas, you're supposed to eat too much," Kim protested but the end of her argument was cut off when a slightly flustered Alex came into the room.

"This… this is going to sound like a stupid question," she began, "because I don't see why ether of you would…. But have either of you moved my scan picture?"

Robin and Kim turned to her, a little confused.

"No, sorry," said Robin.

"Why, ma'am?" asked Kim.

Alex put her hand to her head. It was starting to throb.

"It was in my drawer," she said, feeling a little upset, "I know it was in there. I was just looking at it last night, but now it's gone."

"Did it fall down the back of the drawer?" Robin suggested.

"Or out onto the floor?" Kim offered.

"No, no, I checked everywhere," Alex said, downhearted, "I somehow even managed to crawl around on the floor like some great big lumbering Doberman, but there's no sign of it."

Kim hated seeing the upset look on her face.

"Do you want some help looking for it?" she asked.

Alex shook her head slowly.

"it's just not there," she said, "there's really nowhere else it could be." She sighed deeply and sank into an arm chair, "it's gone."

"It wouldn't be the first thing to do a disappearing act," Robin said quietly.

Immediately silence fell as none of them could quite bring themselves to think about that, or the implications for the scan picture. A difficult atmosphere settled over the room. Alex shuddered a little. As time went by, less and less was making sense. She couldn't start thinking about that. It was only going to upset her more so she tried to find something to distract her. She tried to focus on the stupid gadget chart but couldn't care less about sewing machines and other various nonsense so eventually her eyes settled on Kim's slightly pained expression instead.

"Kim? Are you OK?" she asked.

"Fine," Kim said quietly.

"She's just got a bit of a tummy ache," Robin said.

"_A tu –"_ Kim sat bolt upright and frowned, "I'm not five, Rob!"

"Festive overindulgence," Robin corrected himself. He ran his fingers through Kim's hair and said, "I've got to go and do something secret."

"Oh no, Rob, you're not making fishy biscuits are you?" Kim sighed.

"Last minute wrapping," said Robin. He got to his feet and rounded up some sellotape and scissors, "Back in a minute."

"Don't be long, you might miss the electric cattle prod," Kim pulled a face at the stupid programme that she really didn't know why she'd added to her schedule. As Robin left her expression changed, falling considerably as she leaned back and pulled her knees closer to her chest.

"Are you sure you're aright, Kim?" Alex asked quietly.

Kim nodded.

"Fine, she said.

"I think there's some indigestion tablets in the bathroom if you –"

"I haven't got a stomach ache," Kim said, a little sharply, then immediately felt bad for snapping. As she closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. "Sorry," she said quietly, "it's just, I think mother nature's going to give me an unwanted Christmas present tomorrow."

Alex shuffled awkwardly.

"Oh," she said quietly, "sorry, Kim."

Kim looked down.

"I didn't want to tell Rob because I didn't want to bring his spirits down until I absolutely have to," she said quietly, "it's not like I was feeling particularly hopeful this month anyway… with everything that's gone on, there's been too much stress and I didn't think… didn't; think the timing…" she closed her eyes and rocked slightly back and forth. "But even so. Christmas… shitty time for another disappointment."

"I'm sorry," Alex said quietly As she looked at the expression on Kim's face she started to realise for the first time just how serious she and Robin were. She still found it strange to accept, not even because of their sexualities but because the last time she had awoken in 2011 Robin had been so certain that he would never love another person after losing Simon. She started to think about the dilemma that Robin would face if something happened and he found himself back in Gene's world. She knew that he hadn't just stopped loving Simon and never would, but she could see that he had something very special with Kim too. She couldn't imagine how he would ever make that choice and she didn't envy him in the slightest.

"Ma'am?"

Alex realised she'd been lost I her thoughts for a while.

"Sorry, Kim?"

Kim's expression was a little different now. She seemed almost nervous, as though there was a big question weighing on her mind that she wasn't sure how to express. She bit her lip and shuffled a little more upright.

"You know when you and the Guv got engaged?"

That was a thought that made Alex smile involuntarily.

"Yes…?"

Kim hesitated. She seemed to find it hard to get her words out.

"If he hadn't asked you to marry him, do you think you would ever have been the one to propose?"

"Well, I –" Alex hesitated and frowned slightly. It was a strange question, and actually one that brought back a few memories. Had she given serious consideration to proposing? Seriously – no. But over the course of the decade they spent together before Gene finally put a ring on her finger there had been the odd fleeting thought. She looked back at Kim. Her expression looked nervous. "I had an occasional fleeting wonder," she said, "but this isn't about me and Gene, is it?" she paused, watching Kim shuffle uncomfortably. "This is about you and Robin." She saw Kim look down and her cheeks redden. For someone who could be so loud and brash, Kim certainly could embarrass easily. Alex sat up a little straighter and regarded her seriously. "Do you need to be in such a hurry, Kim?" she asked, "how long is it that you've been together? Six, seven months?"

"Longer than that," Kim said quietly, her eyes fixed on a spot on the ground, "unofficially, anyway."

"That's not all that long."

"It's long enough," Kim said quietly.

"Your divorce hadn't even been finalised yet."

"That's only a few weeks away," Kim told her.

"Is this really the time to be rushing into another marriage?"

Kim drew in her breath slowly. It wasn't that she couldn't see it from Alex's point of view, but Alex couldn't see it from her's.

"Ma'am, Linda and me… never should have married," she said quietly, the admission proving difficult to express, "while I loved her… I was never really _in_ love with her. I thought I was incapable of that, ever since I woke up from my coma. Ever since I left Shaz behind." She looked down, a heaviness settling into her chest. "Until now, I'd only ever been in love with Shaz. I didn't think I was capable of feeling that again. Linda and me never really had…" she paused, "that _something_. We never had a love affair, we made _decisions_. We got on well so we _decided_ to try going out, then to try having a relationship, then we made a '_decision'_ to get married." She felt sad as she realised just what she had settled for. "There was no proposal between us. There was a lengthy discussion about the pros and cons, then a small service in a registry office that barely anyone attended. But that was all I was capable of because between waking up and…" she paused, "well, and you and Rob turning up, needing my help this year… I was frozen inside." Her voice was quieter than Alex ever remembered hearing it. Her tone was gentle and measured. "And because I've been through that, I know what mistakes not to make again. I know what makes me happy. I know what makes me feel alive." She finally looked Alex in the eye again. "it's taken me eight years to feel alive again, ma'am."

Alex found her lip wobbling slightly. Why was Christmas such an emotional damn time? She swallowed and tried to keep herself together as she realised a caparison between their situation and hers. She and Gene had sent so long tiptoeing around their situation that now she looked back and saw a lot of wasted years. Why had they taken so bloody long to settle down properly? If they'd gone through all this even just five years ago – engagement, marriage, pregnancy – maybe she'd have been strong enough that her body wouldn't have been compromised. Maybe she would still be with him now.

"In that case," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "I think that you already know your answer."

She watched Kim's expression as it changed from being a little defensive to reconciled and finally a tiny, if nervous smile came across it.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "I think I do."

Alex roughly wiped her eye, just in case any errant tears were threatening to fall.

"And, hey – it's leap year next year," she forced a smile.

"Oh bollocks to that, too traditional for me," Kim commented. Alex gave a distant smile. Despite everything she had been through she was still the same Kim that she'd known as a younger woman in Gene's world.

"Yes, I suppose it is," she said quietly. She felt almost amused as she studied Kim's expression. The nervousness, the softer side – this was a part of Kim that she hadn't really seen before. "Kim, all I can say is that sometimes you've got to listen to your heart. And whatever it's telling you… it's telling you for a reason. Be happy. You deserve it."

Kim knew she wasn't good with emotional or romantic matters and never really had been. This wasn't a conversation she'd found easy, no matter how much she wanted Alex's advice. But now that she'd managed to express what had been on her mind it was helping her to organise her thoughts a little more clearly.

"Thanks, Ma'am," she said quietly, her eyes darting nervously at the sound of her bedroom door closing as Robin completed his last minute wrapping. "You won't –"

"My lips are sealed," Alex promised.

A slightly flustered Robin returned to the room, hair sticking up at various angles.

"Bloody hell, Rob, what were you wrapping? Wild animals?" Kim reeled in horror at the thought of what she might find under the tree in the morning.

"Apparently me and sellotape don't get on very well," he mumbled, tearing away a long strip that was joining his sleeve to his trousers. "Anyway, it's all done now."

Alex looked at the clock on the wall. She was hoping it was closer to bedtime than that. In fact, _wasn't_ it? She reached for the Sky remote and called up the information bar, then compared the time.

"Robin, I think your clock has stopped," she said.

Robin glanced from the info on the screen to the clock on the wall. He closed his eyes as he sank into the couch.

"Yeah," he said tiredly, "great, looks like my luck with timepieces is spreading,."

"We, uh," Kim looked awkwardly from Robin to Alex, "have been having trouble with watches," she closed her eyes for a moment, "for a while now."

"I'll see if I've got any spare batteries for that tomorrow," said Robin.

Alex felt a strange shudder down her spine as she looked at the still timepiece on the wall. She couldn't really understand what that meant. Eventually, feeling a little spooked, she got to her feet.

"I think this might be a good time for me to retire for the night," she said.

"Already?" Robin asked, "but we're only at gadget number eighty and they haven't even featured a kettle yet, however can you leave this barrel of excitement now?"

It took a moment for Alex to work out whether he was seriously excited about the prospect of the upcoming kettle or just being sarcastic until she noticed the half grin on his face.

"As much as I love kettles," she rolled her eyes, "and believe me, I never underestimate their power in society, I think I am better off in bed." She gave her friends a smile as she made her way to the door. "One last thing I need to do first though," she said.

"Say goodnight to the kettle?" Kim guessed but Alex had already disappeared. Kim and Robin exchanged a curious glance and a shrug, then scrambled to their feet and followed her out to the kitchen where they found her setting out a plate and a glass.

"What are you doing?" asked Robin as Alex found a packet of cookies and left a couple on the plate.

"I have to leave something out for Santa Claus," she said as though that explained everything.

A glance passed between Robin and Kim.

"Erm," Kim began, "Not to call your sanity into question, Ma'am, but… what are you talking about?"

Alex seemed a little distant. She smiled sadly at the plate on the table.

"You can't expect a busy man like Santa to complete his rounds without sustenance, she said. To their further confusion she routed around in a cupboard until she found Kim's scotch and poured a large measure to sit beside the plate.

"Erm, Ma,am," Kim began awkwardly, "I like fat bearded old men with a chimney fetish as much as the next person, but I'm not sure he should be drinking on duty. Flying reindeer and a high blood alcohol level? Not a good idea."

Alex stared at the offering she'd left on the table and regarded it for a few moemts, then turned to Robin and Kim with a slightly forced smile.

"Goodnight, both of you," she said, "and merry Christmas."

With confused glances, Robin and Kim wished her a merry Christmas in return and watched her disappear to her room. Her bizarre festive gesture had bewildered them both. It seemed like some kind of weird, random event but neither could shake the feeling that there was something more going on than they were privy to. Either Alex had an inside line to the big guy at the North Pole or she was trying to make up for being a naughty girl this year. Whatever her reasons, they had a feeling they'd have to wait until at least morning to find out.

"And on that note, Robin said, trying to resist the urge to scoff Santa's cookies, "I think it might be time to see if the kettle's having its moment of glory."

Kim shook her head and sighed. It had been a strange day indeed.

"Fuck that," she said as she grabbed his wrist, "I've got a better idea." She paused. _"Bed."_

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N – Fun fact, I was actually the one who proposed to my husband, not on leap day though. However, leap day 2000 was responsible for us meeting. I made a joke proposal to a stranger on a teletext letters page – six months later I proposed to him for real, almost 12 years on, here we are, still happy together!**_

_**Oh, almost forgot, fun fact 2, we actually watched the start of a programme about the all-time top 100 gadgets on Christmas eve last year and were frankly shocked – no, horrified – to see how low down a toaster came :( **_


	47. Chapter 24, 1996: Festive Reruns

**Chapter 24: 1996**

Simon could see a bit of a pattern emerging. His second Christmas in Gene's world and both years he'd spent the night of Christmas Eve getting slowly pissed in front of the TV with some kind of refugee he'd been lending out his sofa to. It struck him that, one year on, he really hadn't managed to get himself into much of a better position than he'd been the previous Christmas. He was just as lonely and fed up with what he was doing there. He really didn't feel like he was adjusting at all. How long did these things take, anyway? He wondered how long it had taken for Alex to feel like she was truly a part of the world and stop longing to go home. Not that Simon had a choice, of course.

"Do you want another beer, Gene?" he asked, vaguely hoping that the answer was going to be no because he wasn't sure he could be bothered getting out of the chair.

"Sod that, time for a real drink," Gene told him, standing up in pursuit of scotch.

Simon leaned back in the chair smugly. Problem solved. Alcohol _and_ not having to get up and find it himself. _Success_.

He tried to keep his mind from wandering to other matters. He'd tried to make a deal with himself that he wasn't going to think about the little matter of his parents' marriage guidance tapes until after Christmas now. He wanted to focus on making sure both he and Gene survived the festive season intact without going crazy.

"Here. Get this down you."

The glass that found it way into Simon's hand contained an extremely large measure. He was going to be lucky if he made it through the evening without passing out if that was the standard.

"Thanks," he said.

Gene took his own glass back to his place on the couch and supped from it, his own mind a million miles away, thinking of Christmases gone by and how strange and desolate the day felt without Alex. His eyes scanned the Christmas tree, still bearing the strange selection of decorations that had materialised the weekend before. He had no more idea now how they had appeared than he'd had at the time. As his eyes passed down from top to bottom he studied the selection of wrapped artefacts below it.

"I can't help but notice a very nominal amount of gifts under that tree, Simon," he commented.

Simon frowned.

"I bought you five bloody presents!" he cried, "what more do you want?"

"There's never five under there," said Gene.

"There bloody are," said Simon, "you'll see tomorrow."

"Not sure I want to," Gene commented, remembering the unimaginative appliances Simon had bought for him and Alex the year before. He wasn't sure he could handle the excitement of _another_ toaster or kettle.

"And anyway," Simon began, "you can talk. I can't see anything under the tree with my name on it."

"Well that's where you're wrong," Gene began.

"Anything that you didn't steal out the cutlery drawer and wrap up," Simon interrupted.

Gene hesitated.

"Alright. Not so wrong," he said.

Simon leaned back and drank some more scotch. He considered downing the glass, sending the alcohol to work on his brain a little faster so that it would knock him out as soon as possible but he didn't want to leave Gene on his own on Christmas Eve night. He tried to focus on the TV for a while and let the rest of the evening blur into the background. They might be a couple of lonely rejects, but at least there was plenty of festive crappery to mock.

~xXx~

Andy's tyres were slashed. No way could he drive now.

That's what Eddie's brain repeated over and over as he paced around in his grubby little house.

_No car, no accident._ Yet his palms were still sweating and his mind was still racing.

_Shit, why am I not feeling better about this?_

X

Andy supped the end of his pint.

"Right, that's it for me," he said.

"Bloody lightweight," Jeremy wasn't the subtlest of men. He was the leader of the crowd by his sheer volume. He'd already given a young Eddie a telling off for abandoning the group early to go and see his girlfriend.

"I've got to drive home, I'm not getting stopped," Andy told him."

"At least stay for one more," said Jeremy, "doesn't have to be fucking alcohol. Just don't go running out on us when the reindeer haven't even warmed up yet – far too early." He paused, "I'm buying."

Andy hesitated. Turning down a free drink seemed just plain stupid.

"Alright. Coke. Thanks."

Jeremy stood up and walked to the bar.

"We'll get some fun out of you this night yet, Andy," he mumbled to himself as he ordered, certain a little added ingredient couldn't hurt.

~xXx~

"This wasn't how I saw me Christmas eve this year," Gene sighed as he tried to field Simon away from the Red Dwarf videos.

Simon gave up trying to enforce a night of nerdery on Gene and sank back into the chair instead.

"Sorry," he said. He looked at Gene in concern. "How are you doing? Really?"

Gene shrugged. He wasn't going to get into some kind of festive heart to heart with the biggest geek in Fenchurch. He wanted to seek his comfort from the bottle that night.

"Nothing I can change," he said, "just got to live with it."

"I'm sorry you're not with her," Simon said quietly. He remembered how much it hurt the year before, his first Christmas being away from Robin, "not with _them_," he corrected, remembering that Alex should have had the baby by now.

"Suppose at least I got out of hiring a bloody red suit and a beard," Gene mumbled gruffly. Simon could see from the look in his eyes that the theoretical red suit had actually not been as much of a potential bugbear as he was making out.

"You'd have had to put the scotch away for a start," he tried to joke, "can't have Santa drunk in charge of reindeer."

"Bollocks to that," said Gene, "cold bloody night like this one, Santa needs something to warm the festive toes from the inside out." To prove the point he supped the last of his scotch and placed his glass on the ground. "Already had this argument with Bolly. Santa gets cookies and scotch; none of this bloody semi-skimmed cow piss bollocks."

"Like you'd ever surrender a glass of scotch for a mythical figure," said Simon.

"When I'm the one wearing the suit and cotton wool beard it's not a problem," said Gene.

Simon wished that there was more he could do or to say. Gene's expression was growing darker by the moment.

"Sorry you never got to wear the suit," he said quietly.

Gene sniffed and stared at a blank space on the wall.

"Wouldn't have suited me perfect physique anyway," he mumbled. He tried not to think about Alex and the baby any longer. It was only serving to tear him to pieces. He found his thoughts drifting to his two week plan again, one fortnight to see if he felt any differently, then a trip home and one for the road in the Railway Arms. The way things were going, he might as well start planning his route.

~xXx~

How much vodka had he slipped in? Jeremy was sure it hadn't been enough to take Andy's legs out from under him as he tried to go to the bar and ended up sprawling across the floor in hysterics. He only added a little to a couple of drinks, just to loosen him up a bit. But the more he loosened up, the less Andy seemed to care about staying sober enough to drive home.

His car wasn't the only thing that was backfiring that day.

A pang of guilt began to filter through Jeremy's mind. He wasn't great at thinking things through. This was one of those 'things'.

"What is up with Andy, man?"

Apparently the others had noticed it too.

"He's… he's just…" Jeremy hesitated, "just enjoying the Christmas spirit."

"_Spirits _more like," someone piped up, "he's fucked, how's he going to drive home?"

Jeremy closed his eyes for a moment. This had all gone quite spectacularly wrong. He drank the last of his pint and got to his feet to accost the weaving Andy on his way back from the bar.

"Give me his bloody keys," he sighed, "I'll take him back."

X

Eddie couldn't stand it. The tyres hadn't been enough. Something inside him was telling him so. He felt his stomach churning horribly and his palms wouldn't stop sweating. Where did the accident happen again? Maybe there was something more he could have done… or should have done…

He couldn't stand it He had to go and make sure that Andy was alright. He knew roughly where the accident happened. He'd never had the guts to visit the place himself. Now he couldn't stop himself from heading there.

Everything had to be OK. It had to.

As he grabbed his car keys and started to head out, he had never felt so scared in his life.

~xXx~

"So what time are we eating tomorrow?" Simon asked.

"Never," Gene mumbled.

"Pardon?"

"I said three," said Gene, trying to gloss over the fact that he had no more idea now how to cook a turkey than he did when he took up the challenge. If he'd had half a mind on the situation he'd have used his time wisely, to research the matter. Just a few basics. That was all he needed to find out. How not to give them both food poisoning. How to stuff a turkey. How to make gravy that didn't taste like socks. He'd researched none of those things and suspected a less than satisfactory culinary element to the day.

"We don't have to watch the bloody queen's speech do we?" Simon asked incredulously.

"You seemed quite enamoured with 'er majesty last year," Gene reminded him.

"Only because you had been plying me and Kim with an extremely large volume of alcohol all day to try to get rid of us," Simon reminded him, "I can assure you I will be holding no such favourable attitudes towards members of the royal family this year." He paused. "Nor sprouts."

Gene gave a slight sigh of relief. _Good_. That was one less thing to cook.

"Listen, Shoebury," he began, "not to throw you out yer own living room but I think I've sat through all the fake festive bollocks I can stomach for one night. Thinking about turning in."

Simon nodded slowly. Neither of them were much in the mood for conversation.

"Fair enough," he said as he got to his feet, "let's just hope no bloody puppets arrive to show me the error of my ways this year."

Gene eyed him warily.

"You're a strange one, Simon," he said.

Simon rubbed his temples.

"Zig and Zag," he explained, remembering his _Scrooge-esque_ encounter from the year before, "it's always bloody puppets with me."

"That's what you get for sticking things up arses," Gene commented, earning him a deadly glare.

"I'll let you get away with that on account of the fact it's Christmas," he said crossly.

"Very kind of you, Shoebury."

~xXx~

"Come on," Jeremy mumbled crossly, hoisting Andy through the car park, "where's your car?"

"There," Andy mumbled, trying to make his feet go in a straight line towards it.

As they approached it they could see that something wasn't right. The tyres had gone right down.

"Oh what?" Jeremy closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh.

"My car was taller than that last time I saw it," Andy mumbled.

Jeremy gave a groan and shook his head slowly.

"No problem," he mumbled a little crossly, "I'll drive you home in my car, and then get back for last orders."

"Cheers, mate," Andy's hot, pungent breath yelled into his ear, "you're such a good mate to me, you know that?"

Jeremy cringed inside.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "the best."

X

"Shit… something's not right… something's not right…"

Eddie mumbled to himself as he drove along. If all was well he'd feel more settled inside, he was sure of it. The fact that he felt like throwing up was a strong indicator that something was going to go horribly wrong.

He knew he was close to the scene now. At least he hoed so. He wasn't sure his racing pulse could take any more.

~xXx~

Gene stared bleary-eyed at the TV as some stupid nativity thing played out. He couldn't give two short and stumpy craps about the use of real life donkeys. Where was the violence? Where were the blood-thirsty films?_ That's_ what you wanted on Christmas Eve, not this religious bollocks. There was no God, there was no Jesus, people like Gene were as good as it got and he didn't see kings lining up to give him gold and frankincense, whatever the fuck that was.

"Nightcap," he mumbled, getting to his feet and slumping to the kitchen. He switched on the light and started to pace towards the bottle but something stopped him in his tracks and brought his line of sight firmly to the table. "What… the… bloody..." he trailed off. He blinked. Was he already asleep and dreaming? Had he had more to drink than he realised and started hallucinating?

What… the hell… was going _on?_

"_Shoebury!"_

~xXx~

His driving was off. Jeremy knew that much. Shit, how much had _he_ had to drink? He hadn't been keeping track of his own intake, he was just planning to bum a ride from someone else, or failing that walk home. He didn't live that far away from the pub, unlike Andy. He tried to keep focused but his hands weren't quite doing what they were supposed to do and his line of vision was slightly twisted as his eyes wandered involuntarily.

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!_ A car screamed by beside him as he realised he'd wandered slightly onto the wrong side of the road.

_"Shit,"_ he gasped, wrestling the steering wheel to get back on track. His eyes darted to Andy who'd fallen sleep beside him, mouth open and deep snores coming from within. "Andy, man, wake up, " he said, "I might need to take a break." He turned to him. "Hey, Andy, you listening?" When his friend didn't wake up he stretched out an arm and gave him a hefty nudge then turned back to the road a split second too late to find that he'd been veering off course again.

The sound as they struck the side of the bridge was every bit as jarring as the physical impact. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and yet the moment seemed to last forever. How could time have ever been so strange? The crush of metal, the taste of blood, the flashes of the past running before his eyes. When it stopped – when everything stopped – he was left with the sound of the car horn beeping a constant tone, the scent of petrol and the still body beside him.

X

He heard it.

He heard the crash.

Eddie almost closed his eyes. He was so close; he was almost there and yet… yet just too far.

"_Fuck!"_ it took all his will power to stop him from slamming his hands against the steering wheel and having an accident of his own. His heart leapt into his throat with a scream that rang out, stinging his ears and bringing tears to his eyes. He carried on driving, speeding up… he needed to get there and see for himself. He'd slashed the tyres, there was so way… no way Andy could have driven – how…?

He couldn't understand it. He needed to see for himself.

~xXx~

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

Gene ignored Simon's maniacally tired eye-rubbing and X-Files pyjamas.

"Did you do this?" he demanded.

"Do what?" Simon had actually been on the verge of sleeping. He thought he was going to lay there awake for hours of have to turn to the tranquilisers that night. But, no, he actually felt so exhausted that he started drifting away fairly quickly, until Gene's lone cry of '_Shoebury'_ had put paid to that.

"The bloody Santa fodder!" Gene cried.

Simon took a moment to realise that Gene was pointing to something on the kitchen table. There was a plate with a few cookies on it and a glass of scotch sitting by its side.

"Why would I do that?" Simon couldn't understand what was happening.

"Did you think it was funny?" Gene demanded.

"Gene, I don't know what you're talking about!" Simon cried, "I haven't even been in here! I went straight to bed. Where did the cookies come from? I didn't think we had any."

Gene stared at the food and drink on the table before them. He found his pulse racing.

"You didn't do this?" he asked.

"I can't magic up a bunch of biscuits," Simon told him.

Gene carried on staring. He felt a strange shudder pass along his arms and just for a split second thought he saw something glittering on the ceiling.

"What about the scotch?" he asked, his voice croaking with confusion.

"I told you, I haven't even been in the kitchen," Simon sighed, "you knew that." He paused and gave a deep yawn. "Can I go back to bed now?" he waited for Gene to respond but the food on the table had all his attention. After a few moments he gave a sigh and shook his head slowly. "Goodnight, Gene."

Gene didn't even notice as Simon turned and left the room. Never before had cookies had the power to wipe out the process of speech.

~xXx~

Jeremy's first moment of panic wasn't for Andy; for the fact he wasn't moving. It wasn't for the fact that there was blood trickling from the corner of his friend's mouth, or that he wasn't breathing. It wasn't for the fact that he'd taken Andy's sobriety from him that night and started the whole damn sequence of events that has led to this.

It was for himself.

His future.

His place at university, his career hopes, his family, his girlfriend, his freedom

"_Fuck,"_ his word was breathy and full of desperation.

His eyes darted around. It was a quiet road. There was no one nearby. Someone might have heard the crash but he was sure he had a couple of minutes. If he could just… just…

He unfastened his seatbelt and stared at Andy. Andy wasn't wearing one. He swallowed and trembled from head to toe. Was he really going to do this? _Could_ he?

Self-preservation. That's all it was.

Wincing as his body screamed out in pain from the impact of the crash, he grabbed Andy under his arms and started to drag his heavy, lifeless frame towards him.

"Come _on_," he muttered as he pulled a little harder. He reached behind him to open the door and tumbled out onto the road before leaning in and continuing to pull the body into the driver's seat.

_Oh shit… oh shit… why am I doing this? Oh god, please forgive me, Andy –_

It had to work. They _had_ to believe Andy was driving. It was so simple; a quick swap of places and his future would be intact

X

And Eddie would never have believed it if he hadn't watched it with his own eyes.

"_You,"_ his voice waivered as he whispered from a distance and his eyes filled with bitter tears.

_It was never Andy._

_It was you._

~xXx~

Gene broke the last cookie in half and took a large bite. Crumbs were smothered around his face and fell down his shirt but he didn't really care. It wasn't as through anyone was around to pick him up in that. He stared at the pattern on the plate. It wasn't even one of Simon's. He knew that. He'd spent long enough there to know the crockery.

The rest of the cookie disappeared into his mouth quickly and he washed it down with the end of the scotch. It wasn't one of Simon's glasses wither. As he returned the glass to the table and stared at the empty plate he shook his head slowly. It made no sense, no sense at all. He recalled the discussion he'd had with Alex, one of the few they were able to share about impending parenthood before she awoke. It was one of those discussions where he tried _not_ to find things to get excited about, one of the discussions where he tried to pretend that the idea of fatherhood wasn't growing on him.

He'd have made a fucking good Santa Claus.

He didn't understand it. He couldn't explain it. Maybe this was one of those Christmas miracles he was always hearing about?

"Bollocks it is," he mumbled as he got to his feet. He hung his head a little. "Merry Christmas, Bols," he whispered and left the room, switching off the light as he went.

X

A twinkling of starlight flashed across the ceiling as the empty glass and plate flickered and faded like a TV picture when the power had been cut.

As Gene climbed onto the couch, pulled the duvet round his shoulders and closed his eyes to the world, a tiny black and white picture fluttered from nowhere, through the branches of the tree.

_DRAKE: Alexandra: 14 Dec 2011. Anomaly Scan. Fenchurch General. _

It fell to the ground and settled somewhere underneath the decorated boughs, well and truly out of view, at least for now.

It seemed that Santa wasn't the only one meddling with time that Christmas eve.


	48. Chapter 25, 2011: Morning Glory

_**A/N: Bleurgh, get the sick bucket, more Christmas fluff ahead! Don't worry, the next couple of chapters will have angst, stupidity and turkey-cooking shenanigans instead. Watch for big dilemma poll at the end of the chapter! **_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 25: 2011**

Alex's eyes slowly opened as the chilly December morning air curled around her arms, sending goosebumps along them. She pulled the duvet up around her shoulders and shivered for a moment, letting the soft covers warm her through. It took her a few moments to realise that it was actually Christmas morning. It was strange but she did actually feel a little festive. She'd thought that, under the circumstances, she would struggle to even feel as though it was Christmas day but something certainly felt a little special, even though she couldn't put her finger on it.

There was a twitching and shifting inside of her and her hand ran across her growing stomach, getting bigger by the day as her baby developed..

"Merry Christmas," she whispered. She started to wish that she had a name for the baby – it was getting frustrating just calling her '_the baby'_, but she couldn't bring herself to think that far ahead without Gene. She couldn't help but think back to the previous Christmas, the unpleasant start to the day when her intended festive frolicking was spoilt by Kim and Simon arriving in the doorstep. _Funny how life turns out, she_ thought to herself. Now she was the one interrupting Kim's Christmas.

She decided to stay put under the covers for a few more minutes. It was warm and cosy right where she was. Christmas would wait a while. For now, she had her memories of Gene and Christmases gone by to bring her fesive cheer.

~xXx~

"I didn't think we were going to make it to our first Christmas."

Kim only had to see the distant smile on Robin's face before it made her smile too.

"I know," she said quietly, "neither did I."

Conversations often had a different context for Robin and Kim. Whereas another couple might have been talking about weaknesses in their relationship that would pull them apart before the year's end, the prospect that they both feared would pull them apart was the little matter of Gene's world passing so close to the real one. There had been a time a few months earlier that both had felt so certain one of them could be pulled over at any moment that they'd even tried to say goodbye. They knew it would hurt more in the long run if they drew closer and closer before they were separated. But they simply couldn't do it. Now months had passed by and with Alex's awakening they'd both felt, strangely, a little safer within themselves – even if everything around them seemed to be disappearing at will.

Somehow 2011 was almost at and end and they still had their feet firmly in the real world. That seemed like a miracle on its own.

"Merry Christmas," Robin smiled. He ran his fingers through Kim's blonde crop and thought for a moment just how unexpected so many things about his current life were.

"Merry Christmas," Kim smiled back, but there was a tinge of sadness in the background, knowing that she wasn't there to see her boys' faces as they opened their stockings that day. The year had been full of strange twists and turns for Kim as well; some good, some bad. She didn't want to think about the bad ones if she could help it, she wanted to focus on making Christmas special and happy so she hauled herself upright and bent over the side of the bed for a moment.

"What are you doing?" frowned Robin.

"Present time," Kim explained, pulling herself back upright again and handing Robin a large, flat parcel. He looked at it curiously. 

"What is it?" he asked.

Kim rolled her eyes.

"Step one: undo wrapping paper," she began, "step two: discover gift. It's not difficult, Rob!" She laughed at his slightly miffed expression. "Seriously, Rob, open the damn thing and see for yourself."

Robin couldn't fault the advice. Seemed perfectly logical. He began to rip away the sellotape and paper and found inside the package a large frame full of artwork. It took him a few moments to realise it was a hand-drawn composite of Robin's three tattoos, including the freehand work that Kim had completed across his scarred body. For a moment he just sat there, his eyes fixed upon the picture. He felt as though his words had been taken from him, he couldn't explain the way it made him feel. No one had ever made something like that for him before. He couldn't imagine the amount of time and effort that Kim had put into the piece. Even more than that, it summed up in visual form such a large part of the last year.

"It's –" he struggled to think of a word that did the piece justice, "it's amazing, Kim, oh my god," he shook his head slowly, "_thank_ you…" he looked at her, his expression still a picture of awe, "thank you so much, I just…. Just don't know what to say –"

"Are you _crying_, Rob?" Kim frowned.

"No," lied Robin. He decided the best way to cover that lie up was by hugging her and making sure his face was well and truly out of her line of sight until he was sure he could fight the sentimental tears away, then drew back and looked at the picture again. "Kim, it's gorgeous, whenever did you find the time…"

"I've been working on it for a while," Kim felt a little shy and awkward, which wasn't like her. She smiled nervously. "I'm so glad you like it. I've been really nervous."

"Well you had no reason to be," Robin bit his lip, shaking his head and giving a smile, "thank you, Kim, thank you _so_ much." He paused as he realised he had nothing nearby to give Kim in return. "Ack, I put all yours under the tree…" He started to climb out of bed much to Kim's annoyance who made a grab for the back of his t-shirt and just about succeeded.

"Where are you going?" she cried.

"To get one of your presents," said Robin.

"I'll open them later, get back in bed!"

"Come on, we've got to even up the score," Robin told her.

"I don't mind!" Kim insisted, "I'll just open mine later on. Just get back in bed."

"I'll be twenty seconds," Robin assured her and she finally let go of him.

"Don't be long, it's cold this morning," Kim gave an over-dramatic shudder and made out that she was turning into a block of tattooed ice.

"I'll be right back," Robin made a dash towards the lounge and fished a present out from under the tree. He knew which one he was looking for, his last minute gift that he'd wrapped the night before. He found it quickly and set off back to the bedroom but as he passed the kitchen he did a double take and stared on in shock. He edged into the room and peered at the table. He gulped. Something was different. Something had… _gone_.

"_S-Santa?"_ he stammered, taking a step backwards. On the plate only a few crumbs remained while the glass of scotch had been drained by someone. Kim had been with him all night and Alex wasn't going to be reaching for the alcohol, so…. "_Oh_ my _god!"_ a burst of excitement overtook him and his arms and legs began flailing around like a cartoon character, "_he's been! Santa's been! Oh my god!"_

A rather confused and anxious Alex emerged from her room, wrapped up in a festively shaded dressing gown, a frown upon her face.

"Where's the fire?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She'd drifted back to sleep for a few minutes and the loud yelling had truly startled her.

Robin spun around, barely able to get out his words.

"Santa's eaten the cookies!" he cried, "he's eaten the cookies and he drank the drink!"

"Rob, you said twenty seconds –" Kim's voice came from around the corner as she tried to find out what was going on.

"Guess who's been?" Robin cried.

Kim rubbed her forehead, confused by his excitement.

"The local neighbourhood drug dealers by the looks of it," she frowned.

Alex took a few moments to work out what Robin had been jabbering about. As soon as his words started to sink in she looked beyond him to the empty plate and glass on the table and her heart skipped a beat. For a moment she wasn't sure what to do or to say, then she started to slowly edge towards them.

"Did…" she found her voice sounded weak and nervous, "did one of you eat them?"

"Alex, I just woke up and came out to get one of Kim's presents," said Robin, "and found the table like this."

"But one of you _must_ have had the cookies and the drink?" Alex's expression was full of confusion.

"Ma'am, the way I was feeling last night I'd have chucked if I'd tried to eat those," said Kim.

"And I can't stand scotch," Robin reminded her, adding, "plus there wasn't enough tuna on those cookies for me…"

Alex looked from the pair of them back to the table. Their expressions were honest and serious. She felt a shudder travel down her spine. Slowly she picked up the plate and the glass and stared at them. For just a moment she swore she could catch a trace of Gene's aftershave in the air. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. It felt very much as though the world was closer than ever. She opened her eyes again and realised that Robin and Kim were staring at her as though she had gone a little mad. She cleared her throat and stepped back a little.

"I… I'm glad Santa enjoyed them," she said quietly, "I'll… just go and get dressed. I'll see you both shortly."

Robin and Kim watched in slight bemusement as Alex took the crockery into her bedroom and closed the door behind her, then exchanged a glance. Neither really knew what to say. The situation seemed so ridiculous that it was impossible to find a way to sum up what had just happened. Finally Robin remembered the wrapped gift in his hands and herded the shivering Kim back to bed.

"Well, Santa got _his_ gift last night," he said quietly, unsure what to do other than to make a joke of the situation, "time for _your_ present now."

Kim allowed Robin to prod her back into the bedroom where they slipped back under the covers to warm up. She looked at him anxiously.

"What… the _fuck_… was all _that_ about?" she asked quietly.

Robin shook his head slowly.

"I… wish I knew," he said, "I thought Alex had done it at first –"

"No you didn't, you _actually_ thought _Santa_ had been," Kim pointed out with a slight smile.

"But she looked so _shocked_…" Robin shook his head. "God, Kim, I'm sick of trying to figure stuff out. I just want to enjoy Christmas with nothing weird going on."

"Again, I point you to the fact that you live with me," Kim commented, "if you didn't want anything weird you should have thrown me out."

Robin smiled and handed her the present.

"Here," he said, trying to push the latest odd incident from his mind, "happy Christmas."

Kim had to admit that, when it came to presents, she was nothing but an overgrown child at heart. She took the gift and ripped away the paper excitedly. Inside the packaging was a hefty wooden block that made her bite her lip as a distant smile crept over her face.

"I know it doesn't replace the sentimental value of the first one," Robin said quietly, "but I know how upset you were when your name block went missing. I ordered another one; it just came two days ago. Just in time."

_DI Kim Stringer_ stared back at her.

"Thank you, Rob," she smiled, her voice quiet. She'd been so upset when her name block vanished.

"Turn it over," Robin said quietly.

Kim wasn't sure what he meant at first and looked on the back, then tried the base and found a small engraving; '_Christmas 2011, with love, R'. _She stared at it, trying hard to stop her disobeying lips from displaying a soppy smile. She swallowed and finally looked back at him.

"Thank you," she whispered, "than you so much, Rob."

Robin raised an eyebrow.

"And you had the nerve to accuse _me_ of crying," he teased, reaching out to catch a small tear that was threatening to escape from Kim's eye.

"Oh, _bollocks_," Kim crossly wiped it herself, ashamed that her softer side was showing, "bloody Christmas. Tinsel, turkey and too many bloody emotions."

Robin couldn't help but smile though. At last she let him _see_ her emotions. She rarely showed them to anyone else.

"Just superglue this one down or something," he said, "I think enough stuff's skipped dimensions for now. The next thing allowed to go back is Alex, beyond that… hopefully our stuff will stay put where it is."

~xXx~

It was strange just how much the disappearance of the cookies had affected Alex. She sat staring at the empty plate and glass, just shaking her head. She couldn't understand it. When she'd set them out the night before, the fact that they might actually reach their destination had been the last thing on her mind. She just wanted to give one gesture; one personal gesture to show that she was thinking of Gene and one of the conversations they'd had at the time. She even felt a little silly for doing it. Not so much now.

She carefully turned the glass around and examined it carefully in the light. She could see the mark of someone's lips gently imprinted around the top from where the drink had been supped. She was still certain she could catch Gene's scent upon it too.

"This is ridiculous," she shook her head and muttered to herself, "I appreciate that sometimes worlds can come a little too close together but what is the point in all these things passing back and forth when the _one_ thing that needs to go back is still stuck here?" she pointed to herself. "That's me by the way!" she said just in case any passing starlight was listening. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. Stupid as it sounded, inside she knew what had happened. "Merry Christmas, Gene, she said quietly.

It took her a few moments to get herself together enough to pull on some clothes and return to the kitchen, keeping the plate and glass safely tucked away. She didn't want to risk some over-enthusiastic washing up ridding them of their man stink. The kitchen was empty, except for a few crumbs on the table. The morning was fairly clear and bright. No sign of any festive snow but thankfully it wasn't a grim, rainy day either. As she began to boil the kettle she heard footsteps padding around behind her. She glanced around to see Kim taking a seat at the table and she gave her a smile.

"Shall we try starting this Christmas day again?" she joked as she reached for some mugs, "_Merry Christmas, Kim."_

"Merry Christmas, Ma'am," Kim smiled back, leaning backwards in her chair. She looked a little nervous. "Do you mind if we forget about the vanishing biscuits?" she said quietly, "only, I'm not sure my brain can cope with flip-chart lists about them on Christmas day."

"Oh, I'm glad you said that," Alex sighed, "I'm not up to a full-scale investigation either." She breathed in deeply, hoping to catch Gene's scent somewhere around her, "there's going to be enough of that going on _after_ Christmas." She paused and indicated a mug. "Coffee?"

"Oh, yes please," Kim sighed. She rocked against the back legs of the chair and sighed. "Just waiting for Rob to finish in the shower." She watched Alex making the drinks and asked, "do you need a lift to Molly's foster mother's for Christmas lunch?"

"Oh, no, I'm being picked up about twelve," Alex told her, "thank you though."

"We're probably not eating until latish so if you and the little one want a second Christmas dinner –"

"I think one will be sufficient, thank you," Alex smiled. She placed a steaming mug in front of Kim, then sank into a chair, her legs starting to ache. Although she was gaining back her strength she still found it difficult to be on her feet for too long. She looked at Kim who seemed brighter than she had the night before. "How are you feeling this morning?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Kim was distracted as she lifted her mug and took a moment to realise what Alex meant. "Oh, yeah," she smiled with a hint of embarrassment, "I feel fine today. Must have just overeaten after all."

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Alex told her, "you certainly didn't look right last night."

"I'm just glad Mother Nature didn't see fit to give me a special Christmas present," sighed Kim.

"So does that mean -?" Alex raised an eyebrow but Kim shook her head.

"No," she said quietly.

"But there's always a chance –"

"I'd know if I was," Kim said quietly, "believe me, I'd be celebrating Christmas in the bathroom with the toilet as my close personal friend." She sighed. "I get the kind of morning sickness you only see in films, Ma'am," she sighed, "believe me, if I was, I'd know."

Alex wished there was something that she could say.

"Sorry, Kim," said sighed. She didn't want to spout any clichés about giving it time or letting things happen naturally. She didn't think that would be particularly constructive. All she could do was to offer a sympathetic smile. "Well… not to sound unkind but I hope you're spending hours in the bathroom soon."

"Thanks," Kim said quietly. She sighed and tried to change the subject. _"Robin_ on the other hand…"

"Is he still… _having problems?"_ Alex asked tactfully.

Kim nodded.

"He's so embarrassed about it, Ma'am," she said quietly, "he's desperately trying to hide it but there's no masking all the toilet trip in the middle of the night and the endless baked bean cravings," she shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair, "started getting to _me,_ too. I keep dreaming he's about to give birth at any moment."

Kim's comment caught Alex off guard and she gave a laugh that she somehow managed to turn into a cough. She took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure.

"You've both been through a lot," she reminded Kim, "it's going to take its toll. I'm sure when _I'm_ out of your hair things will calm down a little more too."

Kim's expression became a little downcast. She looked at Alex with a sadness about her.

"Don't say that, Ma'am," she whispered, "I'm going to miss you when you –" she trailed off. She wasn't sure what the end of that sentence was because she wasn't sure exactly how Alex would get home. "- when you're not here any more."

Alex had to admit that she felt a pang of sadness about leaving Kim and Robin behind too.

"I wish you'd call me 'Alex'," she said.

Kim gave a slightly embarrassed smile.

"You'll always be Ma'am to me," she said, "just like Gene will always be the Guv."

Alex smiled distantly. Even to _her_ he was still The Guv.

Robin's footsteps started to pace along the hall and he soon emerged at the kitchen door, his hair wet and a rather horrible festive pair of socks placed upon his feet.

"What the bloody hell are _they_ doing on your feet?" cried Kim.

"It's a social experiment," Robin told her.

"To see how many people you can scare away?" cried Kim.

"No, I'm waiting to see how many times I can get you to call me a Christmas cliché in one day," Robin teased.

Kim pretended not to grin as she tapped him on the head with a nearby newspaper and told him in the fondest possible terms to piss off, then made her way to the bathroom. He was aware that Alex was looking at him with a strange smile.

"What?" he frowned.

Alex closed her eyes for a moment.

"I thought that Gene and I were the only ones who used _pissing each other off_ as a form of affection," she told him. Robin couldn't help smiling as he looked down.

"People must think we hate each other," he said, "it's just what we do.

Alex nodded. She was familiar with that.

"That's one of the things I miss most about Gene," she said quietly, "I need my sparring partner back."

Robin chewed nervously on his lip. He looked for all the world as though he had something to say but couldn't quite spit it out. It took several moments before he finally pulled up the courage to begin.

"Alex?"

"Hmm?"

He took a deep, nervous breath.

"You were married before," he began, "weren't you?"

Alex frowned a little. She didn't really want to think about Peter if at all possible.

"Yes, I was," she said quietly, "it wasn't a raving success."

"Did that make you… _nervous_ at all… about the thought of getting engaged and married again?"

Alex opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated. Something was giving her slight déjà vu. She closed her mouth and frowned a little. Hadn't she just been through this from a different perspective the night before with Kim?

"Are you asking me whether_ I_ was nervous or whether I think _Kim_ will be nervous?" she asked. The look on Robin's face answered her question. "Oh _no_, I'm not getting caught up in the middle of some… proposal _duel_…"

Robin's face was plastered with a look of bewilderment.

"A what?"

Alex got to her feet and picked up her mug.

"No, Robin, one bad marriage isn't going to put Kim off the idea of getting married again."

Robin's cheeks turned beetroot red.

"But how did you –"

"So stop worrying about that and start worrying about things like the fact that people die or end up in a different year every time someone tries to get engaged!"

"But I didn't –"

"And try not to bump into each other at the bloody jewellers!" Alex concluded. Her head was aching. Since when had she become some kind of inter-dimensional agony aunt anyway? "Now, if you'll excuse me I think I'm going to have this in the peace and quiet of my room with no potential nuptials interrupting my cuppa."

Robin stared open mouthed as she left. For some time he had no idea what to say. Finally he shook his head.

"I was only asking!" he protested.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: So, I plan things out a stupidly long way ahead with this series of fics. I admit it. My hands are up in surrender. Stuff coming to fruition now has been in the plan right from Out of the Window. However, I've buggered up part of my ultimate gameplan with the little thing known as characters running away with you. Damn them and their stupid habit of developing minds of their own! *grump grump***_

_**You see, I had always intended for Robin and Simon to reunite eventually. But then Kim happened, and, and… ARGH! I am genuinely torn. I don't know who I want Robin to eventually be with, especially because – despite being horrible to them – I want them all to be happy eventually!**_

_**Just to test the waters I've put up a poll on my profile about who Robin should eventually end up with – not saying it's going to influence the ultimate outcome or not but it might help me with my decision! It's a blind poll so you can't be influenced by how others have voted, and also there's no cheaty third 'Don't know' option!**_

_**Please vote! Robin's future depends on you!**_

_** Picture him looking all pitiful and drowning his sorrows in fishy biscuits here **_


	49. Chapter 25, 1996: Served Cold

**Chapter 35: 1996**

Simon's sleep hadn't exactly been peaceful. He'd struggled to stay asleep for most of the night. His rude awakening involving cookies and scotch just as he'd drifted off had scuppered his sleep for most of the night. His sleep was shallow, his awakenings came often and his dreams were broken and stressful. He wasn't sure quite what they were even about; a whole line of seemingly unconnected images that he couldn't organise into anything that made sense – snatches of the past and the present, and what he really hoped wasn't the future, all knitted together with moments of fearful awakening with a racing pulse and a sweating brow.

It was around five or six when he finally seemed to achieve a deeper layer of sleep and slept quite soundly for some time The first thing that began to pull him from his slumber was a strange moaning noise. At first it seemed to be a part of his dream but he quickly realised that it was going on in his room and his eyes began to open. His heart rate increased and he gulped. Something was going on. There was something there. Something in his room. Something….

He scrambled upright and screamed a long, throat-killing, soul-destroying scream as he saw two familiar puppets popping up over the end of his bed.

"_Hello Simon! We're back! Did you miss us?"_

"_ARGH!"_ Simon shook and trembled as he stared at them, "Fucking Zig and Zag! No…. no, piss off! You have no right to be here! I'm not a scrooge now… I'm _not_…" he trailed off and his expression changed as he noticed three things; firstly that Zig and Zag seemed several times smaller than the year before, secondly that they both appeared to have developed Manchunian accents and thirdly that they seemed to stop talking at the same time as some splutters of laughter came from somewhere beyond his field of vision. Angry and shaken, he scrambled out of bed and peered over the edge where he found Gene crouched on the floor, one puppet on each hand, slowly giving in to hysterics.

"You _bastard!"_ he cried, clutching his chest as his heart pounded, "you know how I feel about bloody puppets – especially those twats! How could you?" but Gene was too far gone to reply. He gasped for air between bouts of laughter , unable to look at Simon for quite some time. Between his anger and his shock, Simon realised that, as far as he could recall, he'd never actually seen Gene laugh before. He wasn't really the laughing type. His amusement was usually internalised. But he had apparently pulled the ultimate prank and just this once was going to let the laughter fly.

"Thought you'd be more grateful," Gene finally managed to gasp as he tried to get his breath back, "a fond reunion."

"Where the _hell_ did you _get_ those things?" Simon demanded.

Gene shed the gaudy puppets from his hands and threw them onto Simon's bed.

"Bought them in the new year sales," he explained, "after your little gate-crashing exploits last Christmas."

"And you've had them all that _time_?" Simon demanded, "what, just tucked away somewhere? Waiting for an opportunity to get revenge?"

"They do say it's a dish best served cold," Gene reminded him.

"Yeah, so's gazpacho soup, no reason to give a man a panic attack on Christmas morning!" Simon panted, his pulse still racing.

Gene gave one last laugh. He couldn't help it. A year of waiting had paid off. Revenge had been taken.

"Merry Christmas, Shoebury," he said as he left the room, "you can, uh, keep the puppets."

Simon stared at the limp pair on his bed.

Googly eyes stared back at him.

"Thanks," he spat, "thanks _so_ much. I'll treasure them always." He narrowed his eyes at them, picked up a nearby t-shirt and tossed it over them to stop their vacant stares from freaking him out, "at least I will if there's a power cut on a freezing day and we need something to burn for heat."

~xXx~

Gene kept chuckling to himself as he chased a dollop of marmalade around the plate with what was left of his toast. Twelve months he'd been sitting on that joke. Twelve bloody _months._ That's a long time for a plan to brew.

"Poetry in motion," he smirked as he finished his toast and pushed away his plate. He heard thumping footsteps of doom heading in his direction and prepared for the worst. "Uh oh, I'm in trouble now." An extremely pissed off Simon arrived at the doorway, arms folded over unpleasant attire. "Oh bugger, it's worse than I thought," Gene cringed, "it's the jumper!"

Simon scowled.

"Yes," he snapped, "it's cold, it's Christmas, I'm not at work and I want to wear my bloody jumper. Is that alright with you?"

"Wouldn't normally be a problem," said Gene, "only it's Christmas day and Noel bloody Edmonds is bound to come on the box later on. Don't want to get the two of you confused."

"_Ha bloody ha,"_ Simon snapped as the phone started to ring, "Oh, who the hell is _that?"_

"The Big Breakfast, probably," Gene told him, "they'll be wanting to employ me for me excellent puppetry skills."

Simon ignored him and answered the phone. He listened for a few moments and his expression grew dark and sad. Gene watched on, slightly alarmed by Simons repeated use of the phrases '_Oh no',_ and _'I'm so sorry'_. When Simon concluded the call with _'I'll be right there'_ he started to _really_ worry.

"Take it that wasn't me first step to stardom then?" he asked cautiously.

Simon turned to him, all memory of the prank suddenly forgotten.

"That... that was Eddie," he said.

"Don't tell me, Santa forgot to leave him any staples in his stocking?" asked Gene.

Simon took a deep breath.

"No," he said quietly, "he's uh…" he took a deep breath, "he's just had a masterclass in how you can't change the past here."

Gene hesitated.

"Shit," he said eventually.

Simon looked down.

"Happened last night," he said quietly, "he's at the station, he's had to give a witness statement."

"What exactly did the man witness?" Gene asked, a little twinge of sadness in his voice.

"The aftermath of an accident," Simon said quietly, "lost his best friend. _Again_." He marched into the lounge to find his jacket. "I said I'd go over He needs someone to talk to."

Gene nodded slowly.

"'Course," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Simon said, "I'll try not to be long."

"Don't worry about me," said Gene, "if I get bored I'll stick me hand up a puppet's arse and have a conversation with meself."

"Or you can stick your hand up the turkey and get to work on Christmas lunch," Simon reminded him.

Gene's heart sank. _Shit, Christmas lunch._

"_Yes,"_ he said through gritted teeth, "I suppose I could."

He closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh as Simon left. _The bloody Christmas lunch._

How had he managed to get into this again?

"Bugger."

~xXx~

Simon felt his heart sinking as he saw Eddie sitting alone, his head lowered and his skin almost grey. He gave a deep, involuntary sigh. This was the illustration for the saying 'learning the hard way.'

"What happened?" he asked as he walked towards him.

Eddie looked up. He felt a little guilty for calling Simon.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he said quietly, "I know it's Christmas, I didn't mean to ruin your day or anything, I just… I didn't have anyone to call… and after we talked that day…"

Simon sat down beside him.

"It's no problem," he said. He looked at Eddie's bloodshot eyes. "Do you want to tell me what happened last night?"

Eddie looked down and swallowed.

"How about I tell you what _really_ happened on Christmas eve, nineteen ninety six?" he said.

Simon gave a small shrug.

"Go on," he whispered.

Eddie fiddled with the button on his sleeve.

"I lost my best mate," he said, "Andy, his name was. I told you he'd been drinking. There was a car accident." Simon nodded as Eddie continued, "except, it turns out…" he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "the accident wasn't everything we thought it was."

"How do you mean?" asked Simon.

"Jeremy… a mutual friend… he was in the car too," Eddie shook his head, "the one witness. Everything hung on his word." The truth almost choked him inside. "Except Andy wasn't the one driving."

Simon looked at him in shock.

"What?"

"And we never knew, until now," Eddie continued. He looked at Simon. "I thought I'd stopped it, Sir. I slashed his tyres, he should never have been able to drive… but it didn't matter, because Jeremy was always the one who was going to take the wheel." He found his head in his hands. "_Shit."_

Simon stared at him, unsure what to say or do. It was yet another happening that reminded him how difficult his job was and how hard it was to be a part of that world.

"Shit, Eddie, I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"I just… just still felt _bad_," Eddie carried on, "like something wasn't right, so I started to head to the place where the accident happened. I heard the smash before I even got there, and the first thing I saw was Jeremy pulling Andy into the driver's seat." He took a deep breath. "I almost lost the plot. I wanted to smash his stupid fucking face in."

Simon looked at him in alarm.

"You didn't though, did you?"

Eddie shook his head.

"Just about restrained myself," he said quietly, "don't know how." He rubbed his aching forehead. "I've been here all night, Sir. I called it in. Because of what I saw I was a witness too." He felt his anger growing. "All these years… all his friends, his family… they all had to live with the thought that Andy did after getting behind the wheel drunk. Everyone rallied around Jeremy… when I think about all the support we gave him… trying to help him come to terms with it…" his breath almost choked him. "Is that why I'm here, sir? He looked Simon in the eye, his star full of questions, "to find out the truth? Was I here to find out what really happened?" Simon didn't reply. He still didn't know what he could or couldn't say. "I… I thought maybe I was here to stop it, but I tried and… I couldn't…" he looked at Simon, desperately hoping for a response. "Sir? What _was_ I here for?"

Simon wished he could say something. He wished that he could offer him the answers he was seeking, but it wasn't the done thing. He was fairly sure he had overstepped the mark already.

"I'm so sorry about your friend," he said quietly, "and you know, if you want to talk, I'm here."

Eddie hesitated.

"But not to talk about what I want to know?" he asked quietly.

Simon looked down He felt his stomach churn. _No_, he thought, _not about what you want to know._

From _'is this why I'm here?' _it's a very short leap to '_how do I get home?'_ and that wasn't a question Simon could face hearing. Eddie's still and silent watch told him that the answer to that was something he wasn't ready to hear yet.


	50. Chapter 26, 2011: Growing Up

_**A/N: Just posting a couple of shortish chapters together today**_

**Chapter 26: 2011**

Alex couldn't believe how nervous she felt as she gathered up her bag of gifts for Molly and headed into the kitchen to wait for her lift. She had met Molly's foster mother the week before and she seemed like a lovely lady – Molly seemed to be getting on well with her too – but the day was making her feel extremely anxious. She still felt as though she was on shaky ground with Molly, and now she had given herself a deadline the fact that she knew she was choosing another life over her daughter almost crippled her with guilt. The situation was almost unbearable. It was a choice no one should ever have to make, but she knew deep down she had made the right decision.

"Ma'am," Kim rushed out of the lounge with a package in her hands, "can you give this to Molly from Rob and me?"

"Not a problem," Alex smiled, opening the top of her bag for Kim to place the gift inside.

"It's not much but… we kind of got to know her quite well this year," Kim said quietly, her mind flashing back to the dramatic, emotional talks from Alex's doctors while she lay in her coma.

"You didn't have to do that," Alex told her.

"We wanted to," said Kim.

Alex nodded slowly. She felt eternally grateful that Molly had been able to rely on Kim and Robin on the outside when Evan had been sent to prison.

"I'm sure she'll be grateful," she said quietly, "as long as it's not a tattooing voucher. I might have to put my foot down at that."

Kim laughed.

"No, it's not," she said.

"Stuffing."

The word came at random from behind them and the two women exchanged a glance and a frown.

"Same to you," commented Kim.

"What?" Robin popped up from behind an open cupboard door, "sorry... just talking to myself." He paused. "Yes, I know that's the first sign of madness."

"No, asking me if I would be willing to tattoo Starbug on your backside was the first sign of madness," Kim told him, which earned her a raspberry before Robin disappeared out of view and rummaged around again until he found what he was looking for. The sound of the buzzer startled them all and Alex got anxiously to her feet.

"Oh, goodness, that's Molly," She said quietly.

"Ma'am, relax," Kim was concerned about Alex's nervousness, "it's just Christmas lunch with your daughter. Just have a nice time and enjoy it."

Alex tried to smile but there were nerves behind it.

"I'll do my best," she said.

Robin brushed some errant Paxo from his hands and wandered into the hall to speak over the intercom to Molly. He turned back to the kitchen and nodded.

"It's her," he told Alex.

Alex's smile wobbled a little.

"I'll see you later then," she said, getting to her feet and grasping her bag of gifts, "enjoy your Christmas day of peace."

"We will," said Kim, not sure there was going to be a lot of peace in the equation.

Alex took a deep breath and glanced at herself in the mirror in the hallway. No wonder Kim had been worried – she looked a nervous wreck. She carefully made her expression more relaxed and neutral then left the flat with a wave. It was likely to be an emotional day but it was one she had to face.

~xXx~

There were croissants.

Croissants, butter, jam and bucks fizz.

"This is a bit bloody decadent," Kim commented as they sat on the floor beside the tree.

"It comes but once a year," Robin reminded her cornily.

"What does? Layton's bath?"

Robin smiled and handed Kim a croissant on a plate.

"Here," he said.

As they weren't planning to eat until late the light brunch seemed like a good compromise as a snack to get them through until dinner without Kim's stomach sounding like a washing machine. Kim wasn't keen on Bucks Fizz – she liked champagne and she liked orange juice but thought the drink was a waste of both – but they'd been given the bottle by DCI Huston as a token apology gesture.

Ever since Kim's telephone rant to Hamilton's superior shed been receiving calls and emails from the DCI whose ear she'd bashed away. _Headhunting_, they called it. _Stalking,_ Kim relabelled it. Apparently they liked her attitude and were determined to poach her away from CID but Kim was perfectly happy where she was. However, if Huston wanted to fight for her loyalty with alcohol she wasn't going to stop him.

They munched and drank in silence for a few moments until Robin began crawling on all fours to fish their gifts out from under the tree.

"Christmas shopping was several times more fun than usual this year," Kim told him.

"Yeah, same for me," said Robin, backing out and hitting his head on a large glass bauble. _"Ow."_

"Linda was never the easiest person to buy for," Kim sighed. She felt a dark feeling settle over her. When she thought back, the reason it was so difficult to buy for her was the fact that they had so little in common. Their main common interest was tattooing and there's only so many tattoo books you can buy for one another. They'd settled into a pattern of either tattooing or piercing each other for Christmas instead.

"Simon was fairly easy to buy for," Robin told her, sorting the gifts into piles, "but the scope was fairly limited. He loved his gadgets and there was always sci fi memorabilia," he paused, "and guinea pig calendars. But those were the general areas to stick to."

The strange thing about Robin and Kim was that on the surface and to outsiders they seemed to have very little in common, but over the time they'd shared both as friends and as more they'd found a number of obscure shared interests such as a love of vintage kids TV and similar taste in music, not to mention the fact that they'd both brought out new interests in one another. It had made Christmas shopping a fun and interesting experience for both of them.

_Receiving_ gifts had also become a more interesting experience as neither had to use their well-rehearsed _'just what I always wanted'_ faces that they'd had to use for other people over the years. Small stacks of quirky presents built up between them on the ground alongside croissant crumbs and half-finished glasses of buck's fizz which Robin constantly complained was giving him Cheryl Baker flashbacks. Finally there was only one gift apiece remaining.

"Last but not least," Robin said as he handed Kim a fairly small box. She took it curiously and eagerly, unwrapping it quickly and revealing a flip up lidded box inside. As she opened it her eyes fell upon a watch, simple but classy and just different enough to suit her down to the ground. She bit her lip as a giggle escaped and Robin started to worry. "You… you don't like it?" he asked.

Kim shook her head quickly,

"No, Rob, I love it, I really do…" her giggles increased, "it's… it's the sort of thing that would catch my eye…. So –" she laughed a little harder as she handed Robin his last present in, a suspiciously familiar box. The moment he saw it a silly smirk crossed his face.

"Should have known," he said, trying not to laugh as he unwrapped the box and opened the lid to find the self-same watch inside.

"Sorry," Kim giggled.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Robin closed his eyes as he laughed, "we were bound to crossover on something," he slipped the watch from its packaging and pulled up his sleeve so he could fasten it around his wrist to see it more easily. "Maybe these will last longer than our recent watch attempts. How many have I 'lost' this year? Six? Seven?"

"It's been ten, Rob," Kim told him, "I counted."

"Shit," Robin knew that the strange timepiece happenings had a more malevolent meaning behind them. He tried not to think about that too much.

"And I've lost five," Kim sighed.

Robin's eyes rose to the still clock on the wall.

"I need to change the batteries in that, too," he said.

"Plenty of time for that later," said Kim, "no pun intended."

As the gift-unwrapping came to a close and the pair snuggled up together beside the heater to enjoy their last few moments before turkey-stuffing became the order of the day neither had ever felt so content or at peace. While both knew it could never last, for now they were going to make the most of every moment. Both knew that Alex's deadline would have implications for themselves too, and where her return to the nineties would leave them they didn't know but they were going to make the most of every damn moment until that day arrived.

~xXx~

Alex smiled nervously as Molly opened another present. She hadn't been able to buy very much for her daughter, partly because shopping wasn't an activity she was in the best physical condition for and partly because she really didn't feel as though she knew her daughter anymore and had little idea what to buy her, but Molly seemed to love the items nonetheless.

Could there be a deeper guilt? Alex didn't think so. The guilt she felt as she watched Molly hold up the jumper to her shoulders and tell Alex she was going to go and try it on almost tore her heart in two. _Oh god,_ what was she _doing?_ She was going to leave Molly again. _Again._ And this time it was of her own volition. She _wanted_ to go back to the nineties, to Gene, to Fenchurch East, to her other life. She wanted them to bring up the baby together and to carry on with the existence that she'd left behind, and the only way to do that was to abandon her daughter.

Trying to balance things out was a near impossibility. She told herself on the one hand that Molly needed her, but she had seen for herself how well her daughter had coped while she had been in her coma. She knew Gene needed her more. And the baby needed her father. There was so much riding on making it home, but she knew she would never shake the guilt about her decision.

It made it worse knowing that she was _planning_ to go home. Her mind was on Manchester and solving whatever she needed to in order to help Gene find peace, but she knew that the only way to get home after that was to die or to enter another coma. Basically, her journey to Manchester boiled down to little more than a suicide mission. _Oh god, poor Molly._

"Everything alright?" Molly's foster mother looked around the doorway as Alex waited for Molly to return. She fixed a false smile upon her face and nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Marion," she said. She paused. She needed to say something – _anything_ – but her mind had gone blank. "You… you have a lovely home," she said eventually, cursing herself for sounding so stupid. Marion didn't seem to mind.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. Alex hoped that she was going to return to the kitchen and continue with the Christmas lunch but instead she sat down on the sofa opposite and looked at her seriously. "I just wanted to have a talk with you while we're alone," she said.

Alex felt her heart starting to race. Was this going to be good? She suspected not.

"Oh yes?" she faked a smile and waited.

"It sounds as though you're making good progress physically with your recuperation," said Marion. "Molly tells me you're getting much stronger now."

Alex nodded. That was true.

"It's taking time, but I'm getting there," she said

"I'm sure that you're anxious to have Molly home with you as soon as possible," said Marion.

_Ouch_. That was it, right there – her heart crumbling into pieces. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment. What the hell was wrong with her? How many years had she fought to get home to Molly? And now she was fighting to go in the other direction. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

"I'm not sure how long that will take," she began.

"I know that you still have a fair way to go yet," Marion told her, "but I'm here to support you both in whatever way that I can. For example, perhaps if you need a more gradual transfer then Molly could begin by staying here during the week and living with you at weekends for a couple of months until you are ready and able to support her again full time."

Alex nodded meekly.

"Perhaps," she said quietly.

"And I'm sure you'll want to try to ease yourselves back into living together before the baby arrives," Marion was on a roll, "when is she due?"

Alex opened her mouth to say 'October' but had to stop herself and think again. Every time someone asked her that, her mind went back to her original due date that she'd been given in 1996.

"The first week of May," she said quietly.

Marion nodded.

"Well, depending on your doctors and the advice that they give you I can help you in any way possible to adjust."

Alex squired uncomfortably in her chair. She longed for the conversation to just be over already. She couldn't face any more of this discussion, not when she knew she had less than two weeks before her ETA back in the nineties.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "for your support."

Molly's footsteps flew down the stairs and she appeared at the door wearing the jumper Alex had given her.

"What do you think?" she asked with a smile, turning on the spot.

Alex could feel tears threatening to fill her eyes. For all her guilt and everything that Marion had just said to her, seeing her daughter standing there she realised something. Molly had become a young woman. And although she would miss Alex eternally she was strong. A survivor.

There were others who needed her more.

"I think," Alex tried to keep her voice steady, "that you are growing up fast, Mols."

The guilt would always be there, but Alex's decision was the right one.

Molly would be OK.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Ha, yeah, decided I might as well go the whole hog with the cheesiness and give Alex my due date as well. Yes, around the end of April or start of May I'll be disappearing for a while – advanced warning! And then lots of one-handed-while-feeding-baby typing will follow!**_


	51. Chapter 26, 1996: Barely Bootiful

_**A/N: The second of today's short chapters**_

**Chapter 26: 1996**

Gene was shocked by the haunted appearance of Simon as he returned an hour or so after he left.

"Bloody hell, Shoebury, forget being Scrooge, you look like one of his bloody ghosts."

Simon walked slowly to the sofa and sank down onto it, oblivious both to the festive bollocks that Gene was _definitely not_ watching on TV and the apron that Gene was _definitely not_ wearing. He stared at the table for a few moments before he took a deep breath and began.

"This is shit. This –" he indicated the world around him, "this is so bloody hard to deal with."

Gene inched the bridge of his nose and rubbed it as he tried to work out exactly which part of the world was bothering Simon this time.

"How's Eddie?" he asked eventually.

"How do you think he is?" Simon said quietly, "he's just found out that his best friend's death was caused by someone else all along. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't change it. And now he's leant a truth he was better off not knowing."

Gene gave a hefty sigh.

"He's not the first, Simon," he said, "You come here and you learn things from yer past. Bolly did. Stringer did. Selection of twats and weirdos you never met. They all found out things they would rather have kept their heads in the sand about. But they were things that they needed to know."

Simon didn't even look up.

"And it's not as though it's even going to do him any good, because he's never going home, is he?" He paused, waiting for Gene to speak but he didn't respond. "He didn't make it, did he?" He finally looked up and saw a darkness fall over Gene's expression.

"They don't always," he said quietly.

Simon closed his eyes and let out his breath in a half sigh, half sob.

"_Shit."_

He'd really hoped that he was wrong. He hoped that he still wasn't used to telling that kind of thing yet and Eddie was still fighting on out there, but it wasn't so. He knew Eddie had still been alive as he'd arrived in Gene's world. Somewhere between then and now, he'd lost his fight.

"I wish they could all make it, Shoebury," Gene's tone was different. It wasn't how Simon was used to hearing it. It was gentler, sadder. "But they can't. Some of them are strong enough to keep fighting. Some of them just can't make it."

Simon looked at Gene, desperately hoping for words of wisdom to take away the overwhelming sadness that he felt for Eddie.

"So how do we cope," he began, "when we know they've lost their battle, and all they keep asking is when they're going home?"

"How do we _cope?"_ Gene repeated. He got to his feet and walked away which caused Simon to frown. Was he running out on him? Didn't he have an answer? There were a couple of clinking noises from the kitchen before Gene returned and pressed a large glass of scotch into Simon's hand. "That's how we cope."

Simon looked at him questioningly.

"What -?"

"Not healthy. Not advisable. Not clever. I know that. I know all those things." He sank down beside him with his own glass clasped between his hands, "but it's served me well for years."

Simon stared at him, expecting it to be a joke but Gene was deadly serious. Slowly, Simon nodded. He could see that. He knew he had little choice but to follow Gene's advice so he took a gulp of the strong liquid and felt it burn its way down his throat. He closed his eyes for a few seconds.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Gene hesitated. He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to offer any additional advice, because beyond the scotch all he had to offer were other alcohol related suggestions. Finally he asked,

"So where's stapler boy now?"

"He's gone back to his house," Simon said with a sigh, "I didn't think that was a good idea, being on his own after all that he's found out especially not at Christmas, but he really wanted time by himself."

"He'll be fine," Gene told him.

"How do you know?"

Gene sighed.

"Because," he began, "they always are." He hesitated for long enough for his words to sink in before he stood up with a slight sigh. "Anyway, as much as I would love to continue this joyful conversation this fine Christmas I need to get back to me turkey."

"How's that going, by the way?" Simon asked.

Gene hesitated.

"So far so good," he said, neglecting to mention that so far he hadn't done a bloody thing with the bird. He scarpered quickly and hoped that Simon wasn't going to follow him through to watch the head chef at work. He tried hanging around the cupboard where the tins of tuna were kept in the hope that whatever had possessed him the weekend before might come forth once again and give him the cookery skills of a master, but alas only his fishy biscuit-preparing skills remained. "_Bollocks,"_ he mumbled.

He stared at the turkey; the big raw mound of flesh sitting on a baking tray on the table. There were only two things he knew about turkeys; one was that they needed stuffing and the other was that Bernard Matthews claimed they were 'bootiful'. Or was that Bernard Manning? He was always getting those two mixed up.

"Right, you featherless festive failure," Gene addressed the turkey, "listen up: I'm going to shove something up yer backside and you're going to get a bloody good tan in the oven."

Hmm. The stuffing. That was the point where Gene realised _he_ was stuffed. He had a vague notion that he needed Paxo but he sure as hell hadn't remembered to buy any. He tried to picture Alex preparing the turkey in years gone by. What had she used? There was something round…. He had a memory of it sitting on the worktop beside the turkey. What was it? An onion? An orange? No, that was just stupid.

"_Something round… something round…"_ he muttered to himself, scouting around the kitchen. Finally his eyes came to rest upon the fruit bowl from which he selected an apple, polished it against his apron and jammed it whole up the turkey's backside.

"Perfect," Gene lied to himself, "This is definitely, _definitely_ the best way to stuff a turkey." He paused and hung his head. "If you've got all the cooking prowess of the woman with the fat arse from the canteen, anyway."

Still, it was too late now. He just had to go with it and hope for the best.

Oven on, bird inside, Gene stepped back and nodded to himself. The Christmas lunch was in full swing now – and even the twinkling of starlight on the ceiling couldn't distract him from the thought of the mouth-watering meal ahead.


	52. Chapter 27, 2011 & 1996: Talking Turkey

_**A/N: Warning! I take no responsibility for any sudden aversions to turkey that you may develop as a result of reading this chapter. Besides, you have exactly 10 months today to get over it before Christmas arrives. I need to stop writing about food, I'm leaving myself with far too many food aversions at the moment!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 27**

**2011**

"Oh, Rob, just a few more minutes," Kim clung to the back of Robin's shirt as he reluctantly left their cosy spot in the lounge and moved to the kitchen to begin the preparations for their Christmas lunch.

"If we don't start now we'll never get anything to eat today," Robin protested, even though he was tempted to give in and forget the turkey completely.

"I think I'm still running off yesterday's fry-ups," Kim said uncomfortably, muffling a burp, "I won't need to eat for the next week."

"Yeah, you say that now, wait until the turkey is –" Robin trailed off as he opened the fridge door and found a large, empty spot in the middle of the shelf. He froze and gulped. "Uh, Kim?"

"Yeah?"

He turned her slightly.

"You didn't move the turkey did you?"

"Where exactly would I move it to?" frowned Kim, "Albania?"

Robin gulped again. That was a very valid point.

"Well," he began, "there seems to be an empty turkey-sized space in the fridge and no sign of the main part of our Christmas dinner."

"What?" Kim's expression clouded over, "let me see –" she pushed in front of him and stared at the empty space in the middle of the fridge. "What the hell?"

"I told you!"

Kim turned to Robin in alarm.

"It… it was there this morning!" she cried, "it was there when I got out the bucks fizz!"

"Then where's it gone?" Robin cried, panic raging through his veins.

"I have no idea," Kim panicked, "Can… can turkeys fly?"

"I don't think this _particular_ example has been heading south for the winter!" said Robin.

In the moment of stunned silence that followed, Kim became aware of a low humming noise. She stood upright, glanced around and frowned as her eyes settled upon the oven.

"Rob… it's a bit early to pre-heat the oven isn't it?" she asked.

"Preheat… I'm not pre-heating the oven yet," Robin frowned.

"Then why's it on?" Kim asked.

Robin turned sharply around, his eyes focusing on the appliance behind him. A glow was coming from inside of it.

"Shit," he gasped, "and there's something _in_ there."

"_What_?"

"There's something in there and I'm not cooking yet."

"Well don't look at me!" cried Kim, "after yesterday's disasters my input in the kitchen is going to be limited to standing on the side-lines and cheering you on!"

Robin bit his lip.

"Shit," he hissed. He felt a terrible sensation of fear spreading through his veins as he closed the door of the refrigerator and began to creep towards the oven slowly, one step at a time, with Kim right behind him. He got to the oven and placed his hand on the door, glancing at Kim for support.

"Go on, Rob" she urged him.

Robin swallowed. Then he opened the door.

A turkey stared back. Or it would have done if it had eyes. What it had, in fact, was an apple shoved up its backside.

"_Argh!"_ Robin cried, jumping half a foot in the air, "what the _hell_ is _that?"_

"A…. a turkey?" Kim wasn't completely convinced that she wasn't hallucinating.

"What the hell has it got up its arse?" Robin cried, taking an involuntary step backwards and trying to hide behind Kim who was shaking anxiously.

"I… I'm not sure," she gulped, "but I think I've seen some porn of this…"

"Oh _eugh!"_ cried Robin running around in circles of turkey-related horror. He'd done three complete laps of the kitchen when he came to a halt, slammed the oven door and backed right away. "Oh my god… OK…" he turned to Kim and looked her in the eye, "that turkey was not in the oven when we made brunch. Right?"

Kim nodded.

"Right."

"And that's… that's not even our turkey," he realised, "ours was bigger than that."

"A random turkey can't just…" Kim began but trailed off as images of appearing and disappearing desks, name blocks, decorations and cookies passed through her mind. "Forget it. _Forget_ it. they can. Anything's possible."

**~xXx~**

**1996**

"Shoebury!"

Simon closed his eyes and sighed. He reluctantly hauled himself up from the couch and slumped out to the kitchen, wishing he could disappear into his jumper.

"What now?" he sighed.

"What have you done with me bloody turkey?" Gene demanded.

"What have I _done_ with it?" Simon repeated, "in what way? What are you accusing me of?"

"I just went to all the bother of stuffing the bloody thing and putting it in the oven and now it's gone!" Gene accused.

"Well _I_ didn't take it!" cried Simon. "What would I be doing with your turkey when it's not finished cooking yet? It's all full of germs and death!"

"Well _I_ don't know!" cried Gene, "bloody winding me up. Getting me back for the puppet show this morning."

"Believe me, Gene, I _will_ seek revenge when the time is right," Simon told him crossly, but stealing a half-cooked turkey isn't the way I'm going to do it." He paused, "are you _absolutely_ sure you'd started cooking it?"

"Well, it might have gone down the pub for a quick one first - What sort of a bloody question is that?" Gene demanded.

"Just checking!" Simon held up his hands, "I mean, you did have a bit to drink last night…"

"Listen sunshine," Gene started to get the cookery rages again, grabbing Simon by the neck of his jumper and pulling him forward, "it's supposed to be 'hair of the dog', not _feather of the turkey_, and that bloody bird was in the oven getting a nice tan."

Simon pulled Gene's hand from his neckline, straightened his jumper and took a wary step back.

"_OK, OK,"_ he snapped, "just _checking."_ He pointed to the fridge. "Are you sure you didn't put it back in there by mistake?"

"Oh yeah, that's a nice mistake to make," Gene cried, "your faith in me intellect is astounding. Let's see, why don't we?" he paced to the fridge, "let's see how many rogue turkeys we have in the –"

Simon coughed and raised his eyebrow as Gene opened the door to reveal a large, raw turkey.

"How about that one?" he said.

Gene looked from the turkey to Simon and back again.

"That," he began, "is _not_ my turkey."

"How can you even _tell?"_ cried Simon.

"It's put on weight for a start!" cried Gene.

Simon's head was starting to hurt.

"Look, Gene," he began tiredly, "I've had a shitty morning so far. I don't want to spend the day arguing about turkeys and their magical properties. Whether that's _your_ turkey or not it's _right there_, waiting to be stuffed and frazzled. Just use it and if 'missing turkey' posters start appearing on lamp posts afterwards then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Alright?"

Gene stared at Simon and for a horrible moment Simon feared that a festive trip to filing cabinet land on was on the way, but eventually Gene seemed to concede defeat, pulled the turkey from the fridge, slapped it on the table and reached for an apple.

"What's _that_ for?" Simon regretted asking as Gene jammed it mercilessly up the bird's backside. He flinched and turned his head away, screwing his eyes up tightly.

"What's yer problem Shoebury?" Gene demanded, "you've turned more shades of colour than a bloody Benetton advert."

"Nothing," Simon retched, "nothing's the matter. Except I'm never going to eat another apple again as long as I live." He shuffled and flinched, "or have sexual intercourse."

He retreated from the kitchen whil he still had control over the contents of his stomach.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"Right," Robin took a deep breath and addressed Kim seriously, "so here's the situation: We have one part-cooked turkey in the oven with an apple jammed in its arse. _Our_ turkey has taken a voyage to the other side. What do we do?"

Kim bit her lip.

"Hide?" she suggested

Robin couldn't disagree with the sentiment.

"Don't tempt me," he sighed.

Kim scratched absently at her head

"Or, from a more practical point of view," she began, "we could adopt the strange mutant turkey from another planet, or whatever the hell it is." She sighed and shook her head, "I know it's not ideal but we need a turkey."

"That one's half cooked already," Robin reminded her, "and it's not been basted or stuffed… _properly_… I had all kinds of plans," he looked fairly disappointed, "they didn't even involve baked beans or tuna."

"I know," Kim said sympathetically. She knew that this Christmas was a big deal to Robin. Despite his love of cooking he hadn't had the opportunity to cook Christmas dinner before. When Simon had been alive they had usually spent Christmas day at his family's house. This was Robin's first opportunity to really flex his muscles on the festive fare. More than that he wanted so much to make Christmas special for Kim, especially after everything they'd gone through in the past year. "It's not too late though, Rob. It must still be salvageable. Get it out the oven, relieve its constipation, stuff it, baste it, smother it with bacon and get the damn thing cooking properly."

Robin nodded slowly.

"You're right," he said, "I know you're right."

"It might not be perfect but it can't have been cooking for all that long – I'm sure you can still pull it off.

"Are you talking about the apple again?" Robin teased, which earned him a playful slap.

"seriously, Rob, if we're going to have Christmas dinner then we've got no choice. I mean, our turkey has buggered off to unchartered territory, right?"

Robin flinched. He hadn't even started thinking about where their turkey actually was.

"Shit," he sighed, rubbing his forehead, "it really has happened again, hadn't it? Gene's probably got our bloody turkey." He shuddered, "Ugh, so that means the one in the oven has been prepared by…"

Kim blanched.

"Don't say it or I won't be able to eat it!" she shuddered.

"There's probably a pint of scotch sloshing around inside that thing," Robin commented. He paused and looked at Km seriously "Wait, does this mean…" he paused and bit his lip for a moment, "if we've had a grand turkey swap then does that mean it's Christmas… in both places?" He saw Kim's expression change as his words brought to her mind a possibility she hadn't thought about, "Shit. We've _synchronised."_

"I don't think the two worlds have been in synch before," Kim said quietly.

Robin sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

"Is that why we're getting so much weird stuff happening?" he asked.

Kim thought about that.

"It probably doesn't exactly help," she said quietly.

Robin looked her in the eye.

"Alex _really_ needs to get home," he said quietly.

For some time neither spoke. They both knew that Robin's words were true. Alex needed to get back to the life she'd left behind. She needed to be back with Gene, taking back the life she'd led for so many years.

"Well," Kim began quietly, "maybe if the worlds are in time with one another that will help. She'll get back. And we'll help her," She brushed the hair away from his eye and looked at him seriously. "We'll get her back where she belongs, Rob. And in the meanwhile, there's a turkey sitting in our oven with a severe case of piles that really needs some TLC. So for now let's concentrate on that and try to put this out of our minds for a while. OK?"

Robin nodded slowly.

"OK," he said quietly.

Together they got to their feet and walked nervously back to the kitchen. They peered at the oven and to their shock it was quiet and the glow from inside was no longer visible.

"Weird," frowned Kim, "I don't remember either of us switching it off?"

"We didn't, we just legged it," Robin said quietly. Their shocked glances turned from the oven to each other and back again.

"Alright," Kim began, "let's… let's just open the oven door and see what the situation is. OK?" Robin nodded and they both reached for the door. "Count of three?" Kim suggested.

"OK."

"_One… two… three…"_

One oven door opened. One empty shelf stared back at them.

"_Argh!"_ cried Robin, "It's buggered off as well!"

"What the hell?" Kim cried, clutching her head.

"Now we haven't got _any_ bloody turkey!" cried Robin. He froze and his eyes turned to the fridge. "U-unless…." He stammered, unsure he even wanted to know the answer. Slowly he crept to the fridge and opened the door.

A large, raw turkey stared back at them.

With an apple up its bottom.

"_ARGH!"_ screamed Robin, hiding behind Kim.

"Oh god, not another one," Kim cried, her eyes fixed on the strange fruity addition.

"How can it just sit there, staring at us as though everything's normal?" cried Robin, "like a bloody reverse suckling pig."

He slammed the door and they both backed away from it. This was proving to be the creepiest Christmas on record.

**~xXx~**

**1996**

Gene swigged from his bottle of scotch as he paced around the kitchen.

"Bloody turkeys," he mumbled, "you think all you have to do is neck 'em and they'll behave. But no, you close yer eyes for a minute and they bugger off out of yer oven and into yer fridge."

If anything, the part that annoyed him the most was that half an hour of cooking time had been wasted. Despite not knowing the first thing about preparing Christmas lunch he was starving and couldn't wait to tuck into whatever resulted from his efforts.

"Better throw me spuds on," he mumbled, opening the oven again and reaching in with a tea towel to pull out the baking tray. To his great surprise the turkey he pulled out was already half-cooked. _"What the bloody hell…?"_

He dumped the bird on the counter and stared at it. This… this was _his_ turkey, he was fairly sure. It was smaller than the mysterious second one that had appeared in the refrigerator, and it looked like it had been cooking for a while. What happened to the big turkey? What happened to the one he'd just put in the oven a short time ago?

"Bugger, now nothing else is going to be ready!" he cried, realising that that turkey was going to be cooked on time after all. Letting forth a string of expletives he began to rush around, putting on the rest of the festive food. Once again he cursed himself for taking on the challenge in the first place – and if he never saw a turkey again it would be far too soon.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"There," Robin slid the tray into the oven with a satisfied sigh. Once some brief surgery had been undertaken to remove the spherical red fruit from a turkey's unmentionables it had been plain sailing from there and he'd stuffed and basted the bird before seasoning and covering with slices of streaky bacon. He thought Kim was going to drown in her own drool before the damn thing was even in the oven.

"I know what I said before about rescuing the half-cooked turkey but, honestly," she began, "watching the expert at work – I'm so glad our own turkey found its way home. I can't wait for Christmas dinner."

"What happened to still running off yesterday's fry-ups and not eating for a week?" Robin asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I lied," Kim told him as she rubbed her stomach in anticipation.

"Well, we've got a long while to go yet," Robin told her, "so let's leave the turkey to get acquainted with the oven and see whether Noel Edmonds is darkening the TV schedules this year.

"shouldn't we…" Kim began before trailing away.

"What?"

Kim bit her lip. She felt a little silly.

"Keep guard?" she said, "over the turkey. In case it does _Poultry Swap_ again."

Robin almost laughed. That sounded like a new channel 4 reality show.

"I think it should be safe for now," he said taking her hand and pulling her from the kitchen.

"I'm just a bit freaked out still," Kim told him.

"Yeah?" she nodded. "Well, you know what the cure for that is, don't you?"

Kim frowned.

"What?"

"Bed."

**~xXx~**

**1996**

Gene wiped the sweat from his forehead as he finally finished putting on all the other parts of the meal. So they weren't exactly Michelin star standard. It was better than nothing. So the roast potatoes were suspiciously dolphin-shaped. Well that was how he was _used_ to doing them. It wasn't like he did that on porpoise. *

(* Ahem… sorry…)

He marched into the lounge and dropped heavily into a chair.

"Well?"

Gene eyed Simon.

"Well what?"

"Finished having your turkey freak-outs now?" Simon asked.

"Just wait until you taste me festive masterpiece," Gene told him, "you'll soon cease yer mockery."

"I'll believe it when I see it," sighed Simon, folding his arms and leaning back in the couch.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"Got to check on the turkey," Robin protested.

"Just a few more minutes," Kim pleased.

"You said that earlier and we found our turkey had absconded," Robin reminded her.

Kim reluctantly conceded defeat and allowed Robin out of bed to check on the progress in the kitchen.

"Fine," she said, "but when we've established that the turkey is in its rightful place we're going back to bed."

It was strange but even after the events of earlier Robin truly expected to find everything as it should have been in the kitchen, so to open up the oven and find a well-cooked, non-basted, baconless turkey with an apple jammed somewhere unpleasant staring back at him came as quite a shock.

"_Argh!"_

The scream was all Kim needed to hear.

"Oh no… oh _no_, you've _got _to be joking…" she cried and as Robin stepped back for her to see the issue for herself she realised that the worst had indeed happened.

"Kim, what the _hell_ do we do now?" cried Robin, "it's that other mutant turkey again, it's dry as a bone, it's far too small and –" he gulped, "and it _still_ has an apple up its arse."

Kim shook her head, completely baffled.

"I don't know," she said, "I really don't…" she took a deep breath. "Alright, first, take it out the oven. Maybe it's salvageable. You've got more stuffing and bacon, right?"

"I suppose so," sighed Robin, "but it's half cooked now. It won't absorb all the flavours."

"Still better than nothing." Said Kim, "take the turkey out, start cooking the potatoes and get the veg ready, then stuff and dress the turkey, free up its backside and then put it back on."

Robin sighed. His perfect Christmas lunch was edging further into the realm of impossibility but he knew that he had little choice.

"Alright," he sighed, "I suppose that's logical." 

"I'll help," Kim offered.

"I'm not turning this into a turkey fry-up," Robin warned.

"That's a shame, I quite liked the idea of fried sprouts," Kim teased.

Together they set about trying to rescue something from the meal. As Robin tried to get some moisture back in the turkey and to adorn it with bacon slices Kim managed to get the vegetables on without burning anything. Eventually everything was cooking, simmering , roasting or boiling and with an exhausted sigh they sank into chairs at the kitchen table.

"Next time I try to make Christmas dinner remind me to handcuff the food down first," Robin groaned.

**~xXx~**

**1996**

"Hadn't you better check on the food?" Simon asked.

"It's not going anywhere," said Gene, just hoping that he was right to say that.

"Yeah, but aren't you supposed to be basting it or something?"

Gene sighed and stood up.

"Anything to shut the Shoebury wind trap," he mumbled heading to the kitchen. He supposed he really _should_ be checking on everything. Besides, it was a good excuse to top up his scotch.

_Alcohol first,_ he decided, reaching for the bottle and filling his glass. He took a mouthful of the liquid and absorbed the flavour before setting the bottle down and addressing the oven.

"Alright, turkey, let's see how yer tan's coming along," he mumbled as he opened the door.

A pale and barely cooked bird stared back at him from between rashers of bacon.

Gene considered his options. The first possibility was to pass out. He thought that was a fairly good choice.

The second was to down the rest of his scotch and hope inspiration would strike. Well, that was _definitely_ a good option, so down the hatch it went.

The third option was to scream. That was a bit girly. Not an option.

So option four:

"_Turn off all me bloody veg and shove up the heat on the bird," _Gene decided.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"I am genuinely scared to go and look again," Robin admitted to Kim.

"Me too," Kim shuddered. It was fast reaching the point where they were getting too scared of turkeys and apples to even think about eating.

"We have to though," Robin said quietly.

Kim swallowed.

"I know," she whispered.

Eventually they drew together their courage and faced the wrath of the kitchen. Neither were surprised to open the oven door and find their original turkey staring back at them. Both considered bursting into tears. Both considered going on a turkey murdering spree to show their frustration.

"I can't _deal_ with any more turkey shenanigans," Robin cried.

"I know, me neither," Kim shook her head, "Rob… I hate to say it but I think it might be time to give up. There's only going to be one winner here, and it's not us. It's the stupid bird who enjoys apple insertions." 

"Oh _ew!"_ Robin clasped his hand to his mouth, "did you _have_ to put it like that?"

"Sorry," Kim apologised.

Robin stared at the hotchpotch of pans on the oven.

"Alright. One last try," he said, "I'll turn some of these off. We'll give the turkey one last chance to stay put. We'll cook it for another half an hour and then finish off the veg. And if we find some other, overcooked turkey waiting for us the next time we open the oven then…" he sighed, "beans on toast it is."

Kim sighed and leaned heavily against him.

"Rob, by this point I'm so hungry that even your bloody cravings sound good." She paused, "as long as that doesn't include fishy biscuits."

"No, it doesn't."

"Good."

**~xxx~**

**1996**

"What's that smell?"

Gene was perturbed to find Simon wrinkling up his nose.

"That's me fantastic festive feast," he scowled.

"Well, far be it from me to tell the chef how to do his job but your _fantastic festive feast_ smells like it might be on _fire_," said Simon.

"Bollocks."

"I can smell smoke, Gene," Simon started to get more worried now, "honestly, I'm sure I can." 

"Relax, Shoebury," Gene sighed, "leave it to the expert."

The bleeping of the smoke alarm made Simon jump to his feet.

"what, the expert at fire detection?" he cried as he ran through to the kitchen to see smoke pouring from the oven. After coughing and spluttering he managed to open the kitchen window, then switch off the oven and open the door to find a singed bird staring back. "God, Gene!" he coughed, "you only checked on it twenty minutes ago! How can it burn that fast?"

"Don't ask me!" Gene cried, "bastard bird was only half bloody done!"

He fanned away some of the smoke and could clearly see that the turkey before him was smaller than the last one he'd encountered. His original was back. Back, and black. He choked a little as he donned a pair of oven gloves and hauled the turkey from the oven, sitting it on the counter. He stared at it, completely bewildered by the events of the day and pissed off with the existence of the stupid gobbling dimwit.

"Well?"

Gene looked at Simon, whose arms were folded and whose stomach was rumbling.

"Well _what?"_ he demanded.

"Well what are we going to eat _now?"_ Simon demanded, "you told me everything was under control! You promised me a slap-up Christmas lunch!"

"Not my fault yer oven was defective," Gene huffed.

"Defective?" cried Simon, "there was nothing wrong with my bloody oven last weekend when you cooked up a storm, was there?"

"I cannot be held accountable for culinary malfunctions," Gene snorted.

"Oh yeah? Tell that to my stomach!" cried Simon, "I told you I'd just buy turkey slices but no, that wasn't good enough for you! And _now_ what? What are we supposed to eat?"

Gene hesitated.

"You get the tuna, I'll get the biscuits," he said.

**~xXx~**

**2011**

"No…. it _can't_ be… _it can't be…"_

"Oh, it's not happened again…?" Kim cried in alarm.

Robin turned around with a smile and stepped back.

"One perfect turkey," he told her.

_"What?_ You're kidding?" Kim peered into the oven and gasped as their own turkey stared back at them, done to perfection, "you mean it actually _stayed_ where it was _supposed _to be this time?"

"The prodigal turkey came home for Christmas," he told her.

Kim breathed a very deep sigh of relief.

"Thank… _god_… for that," she closed her eyes and leaned against the fridge.

Robin collapsed into a chair.

"I cannot believe what we've had to go through today," he mumbled in exhaustion.

"You're telling _me."_

Robin rubbed his head.

"Christmas dinner is supposed to be the most fattening meal of the year," he said, "you're not supposed to expend more calories cooking the damn thing than you take in."

"Well, we never have done things the easy way," Kim commented.

Robin smiled.

No," he said, "you're right, we haven't."

Kim reached out her hand and dragged the exhausted Robin back to his feet.

"Come on," she said, "let's serve this thing before it goes on another long holiday."

As they busily dished out vegetables and carved up the wandering turkey neither could quite believe how complicated one meal had become. Robin could only be thankful that all had worked out in the end because he was one step away from making a batch of fishy biscuits and he supposed that would likely have resulted in the retraction of his Christmas presents at the very least, and quite possibly the termination of his relationship as well.

"Some Christmas", he mumbled as he watched Kim carving up the bird.

Kim turned to him and somehow couldn't contain her smile.

"Yes," she said with a slight giggle, "it certainly has been."

For all the turkey trauma, to Kim it had still been just about perfect. After all, she'd been able to share it with Robin. When it came down to it, that was all that really mattered.


	53. Chapter 28, 2011: Right Choices

**Chapter 28: 2011**

By the time Marion pulled up in the car park outside Robin's flat Alex was in a state of high emotion and desperate to get inside where she could hide away from the world and deal with everything that the day had thrown at her. She had underestimated how emotional the day was going to be. Her main concern had been whether she and Molly would get on alright after their recent problems and had been so busy worrying about _that_ aspect of the day that she had overlooked the other possible problems she was going to face.

She felt ten tons of guilt envelope her as her fingers brushed the delicate gold necklace that her daughter had given to her for Christmas. The day had started off so well but had gone steadily downhill after her conversation with Marion about when Molly would be 'going home'. Molly would never be going home with her and Alex knew that. Every time the subject came up she tried to change it as quickly as possible but she had quickly run out of topics. Her highly emotional state worsened when Marion had enquired about the DNA testing and whether anyone had been charged yet. To her credit, Molly managed to reroute the conversation to another topic, now knowing at least some of the truth, but Alex wondered how long it would be before news of the partial match would leak out. She hadn't even come close to dealing with the implications of that yet herself.

The afternoon had been full of comments from Molly about things she was looking forward to when Alex was stronger and all the things they were going to do together. Alex's smile had faded steadily with each one. Inside she knew there was going to be no girly movie nights, no shopping trips, no visits to the beach… each suggestion Molly made broke her heart a little more.

As she finally opened the door of the car and stepped out carefully into the car park she felt as though her eyes were going to spill over at any moment.

"Thank you both for a lovely day," she could barely force the words out and keep that false smile on her face.

"Mum," Molly caught her attention with a grin, "having you back is the best Christmas present ever."

_Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. That's it, the tears are going to come now._

"I'd better get inside," she said quietly, "it's so cold tonight. But thank you again, it was such a lovely day." She kissed Molly on the cheek, holding back the guilt and the tears and tried to smile. "I'll call you in the next few days, Mols, alright?"

"Ok, mum," Molly's smile simply burned her further, "happy Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Molly," Alex barely managed to whisper before she knew she was going to lose her grip on her emotions and hurried the best that she could into the building. Once inside the main door she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, taking a few deep breaths. Her decision never wavered but that didn't mean there were not parts of it that she would take a long time to come to terms with.

When she managed to calm herself a little she slowly climbed the stairs, feeling more and more as though she was on safe territory with the two people who would understand. She couldn't imagine what she would have done if Robin and Kim hadn't been there after she'd awoken. Having others who understood about the nature of the world and could help her to plan her way home was proving invaluable. She reached the front door, more exhausted with every step and turned the key in the lock to hear raucous noises from inside. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling a bit like a parent returning home to find her children were throwing a wild party.

"Hello?" she called out, slightly worried about what she was going to find. She peered into the lounge where she found various kinds of chaos in progress, with Kim suffering a violent attack of hiccups and Robin in hysterics about her plight.

"I thought you weren't going to eat too much today," he teased.

"I _-hic-_ didn't!" Kim protested, "It was the bloody fizzy wine." She glanced up and saw a slightly pale Alex at the door. "Ma'am, hi," she said, trying to calm down and look a little more demure, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Just got home," Alex said with a weak smile. She tried to ignore the ancient christmas special of some cartoon show that Robin and Kim were watching TV, the strange drawings of what appeared to be turkeys travelling through space that were scribbled all over a sheet of paper on the coffee table and the various gaudy novelties that they'd rejected from a box of particularly cheap and nasty crackers. "It... looks like you've had… _fun?"_ she said, more of a question than a statement.

"Well, fun is an interesting way of putting it," Robin began, "considering we spent half the day chasing turkeys back and forth in time."

"And getting _- hic -_ phobic of the oven," Kim added.

"And then convincing vegetables to cook at different rates so we weren't eating the turkey in a different sitting to everything else," Robin added.

"And also, we have been drinking very heavily to get over the trauma," Kim concluded.

Alex rubbed her forehead.

"You don't say," she sighed, completely confused by everything that had been said to her from the moment she arrived back.

"You look exhausted," Robin said, a little worriedly.

"Been a big day," Alex said quietly.

Kim tried to stifle a hiccup.

"Is everything alright, Ma'am?" she asked.

Alex closed her eyes and seemed to sway slightly on the spot.

"Not really," she said quietly.

"What's happened?" Robin asked.

"Some heavy questions," Alex said quietly, "I wasn't prepared for them, that's all."

"Like what?" Kim asked.

"Like, when's Molly going to move back in with me," Alex rubbed her head and ignored a loud hiccup from Kim, "and whether the police are any closer to catching who did _this,"_ she placed her hand on her stomach, "all the kinds of questions I_ really_ wanted to answer on Christmas day."

Robin felt his high spirits deflating.

"Oh god," he sighed, "I'm really sorry Alex.

"That must have been really hard to listen to," Kim said quietly.

Alex nodded slowly.

"But the worst part," she said, "was keeping quiet and smiling, knowing that I'm not planning to be around for much longer." She shook her head, her eyes turned downward. Pulling the gold chain out from beneath her top, she said sadly, "Molly gave me this. It just needs the word _'worst'_ above it."

Kim and Robin looked a little more closely to see the charm on the necklace spelt out _'Mum'_ in fancy letters. They both felt a sense of sadness as they realised quite why Alex was feeling so down. Neither really knew what to say – Alex's position was unique and unenviable and there were no words that could help her in any way.

"Shit," Robin said quietly, "I'm so sorry. I didn't think about that."

Kim glanced from Robin to Alex and back again before she said quietly, 

"Rob, why don't you go and make some _-hic-_ coffee?"

"We just had one," Robin frowned in confusion as Kim made gestures with her head towards the doorway. "Oh…" He hesitated, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," hissed Kim.

"But you're the one who said you're no good with this sort of thing…"

"Yes, I know, but like Christmas it's a once a year thing," Kim told him, concluding with a hiccup and a firm shove out of the door. She turned back to Alex, a dark feeling settling on her shoulders, and walked back towards her. "Ma'am, sit down?" she said a little nervously. She felt awkward asking Alex to do anything. She couldn't put the idea of Alex's superiority out of her mind from years ago. She watched Alex take a seat a little reluctantly and then steeled herself for the kind of talk that she knew she would usually mess up. She hoped this would be the exception. "I know that… the situation isn't the same," she began quietly, "but I do understand in a way what you're going through." She saw Alex's eyes turn downward as she listened to Kim's words. "it's… more complicated than people would realise. It's not like you're choosing between two people, ma'am, you're… you're choosing between two different lives."

Alex's eyes rose and caught Kim's stare. Somehow she hadn't been expecting those words, but they made an extraordinary amount of sense. She had been looking at the situation wrongly for some time and she knew it now. She kept blaming herself for having to make a choice between Molly and Gene but it was a far bigger issue than that. It was a case of choosing between two different lives.

"Yes," she said quietly, "you're right. I am."

Kim muffled a hiccup and wished she hadn't had quite so much sparkling wine that afternoon. A clearer head and slightly less digestive distress would have made this talk easier, but how was she to know?

"My decision wasn't as awful as the one you're having to make," she told Alex, "because my choice didn't involve the difference between being dead or alive." She saw Alex's face become pale and grim, "but I had to make a choice between staying with Linda in a relationship which was –" she paused as she tried to work out exactly how to phrase it. 'Unhappy' wasn't the word. That was a word she used to spare the discomfort of others. She shook her head slowly, "which was_ destroying _me… just to stay with my boys, or to make… the most heart-breaking choice I ever had to make… to kind of _-hic-_ save myself."

Alex nodded slowly.

"People look at it as a straight choice between your family and Robin, don't they?" she asked quietly.

Kim nodded.

"That's what they assume," she said quietly, "but it was so much harder than that. And every day there is a part of me that aches and hurts from being apart from my children. But every day I feel a little more grateful that I had the strength to make that choice and to step away from a life that was killing me inside into one that makes me happy."

Alex nodded again. Kim's words made a lot of sense. There was more at stake than choosing between Molly and Gene. If she stayed in the present for Molly then she'd lose everything else that made her happy. She had no life of her own in 2011 – she had no idea when or if she would be allowed to work again, or in what capacity, or whether anyone would even _want_ her after being in a comatose state for so long. She had few friends, no relationship and her baby would grow up never knowing her father. More than that, she didn't belong any more. Her whole life was based in 1996.

"I wish there was a way to make everyone happy," she whispered.

Kim gave her a sympathetic look.

"I know," she said quietly, "but sometimes…. Sometimes you really, _really_ can't. And you mustn't forget the most important person in all of this."

"The baby?" asked Alex.

Kim shook her head.

"_You,"_ she said. Alex contemplated that as Kim hiccupped and swore, then continued, "you'll never be happy if you stay here ma'am. And if you're not happy then how can you ever expect to make anyone _else_ happy?"

Alex understood what Kim was saying. Even if she stayed for Molly what good would it do for her daughter to grow up seeing her mother so deeply unhappy? She could end up blaming herself for something that really wasn't her fault.

"I know," she said quietly, "I know."

"Molly will be OK," Kim said quietly, "it will be hard but she will survive. And I think, given time, she'll even understand. She's got a wise head on young shoulders."

Alex nodded and gave a slight but grateful smile.

"She's not the only one," she said, "thank you, Kim," although the loud hiccup that followed made her smirk a little and less able to take her friend quite so seriously.

"Bollocks, I need to go and drink some water backwards or something," Kim mumbled as she got to her feet. She looked at Alex seriously. "You're doing the right thing, ma'am. I'm sure of it."

Alex nodded slowly. She thought so too.

"Thanks, Kim," she said quietly as she watched her friend leave. She still felt guilt running through her veins but she knew Kim was right. She could never give Molly what she needed if she felt dead inside. She knew that being apart from Gene indefinitely would kill her. She had a whole life in 1996 and people who needed her. Plus, more than that, she needed them, too.

She closed her eyes as she nodded determinedly. She had to stick by the decision she'd made. It was the right one all round.

~xXx~

Kim felt strangely emotional as she walked slowly to the kitchen. Alex's situation had hit home with her on a number of levels. She wiped her eye roughly on her sleeve as a tear threatened to fall and show her up, before she carried on walking through to Robin where he stood at the sink, rinsing out some glasses and mugs. The calm and domestic setting betrayed the truth about what a strange and bizarre situation they were truly in, in so many ways. Whether it was sympathy for Alex's dilemma or the emotion of the festive season getting to her she felt moved to a gesture that was very un-Kim-like. She walked up to Robin and as he turned to face her she wrapped her arms around his torso and laid her head against his chest, closing her eyes and looking for a kind of comfort that she didn't usually need – or at least admit to needing.

"_I love you,"_ she whispered.

The words caught Robin off guard. It wasn't something they said to each that often. With the strange nature of their relationship they often found it awkward and difficult to say those words, even though they both knew instinctively how deep their feelings ran. Despite his hands being a little damp from the cup-washing, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"Hey," he said quietly, "are you alright?"

Kim nodded against him before she finally looked up.

"Talking to Alex," she said quietly, "just reminded me how glad I am"

"Of what?"

"That I made the right decision."

Robin closed his eyes and pulled her face back gently against him for a moment. Kim's decision was something he was very, very glad about to. They stayed there for quite some time, ignoring all instances of hiccups and wet soggy hands until finally Kim drew back, her emotions a little more settled and a smile back on her face. She looked Robin in the eye. It was a look he recognised.

"Leave those until morning," she urged him, "there are more important things t do on Christmas day."

It had been a day of high stress and emotion for everyone and time to focus on something grounded, something real. Bed was calling their names.


	54. Chapter 28, 1996: Star Struck

**Chapter 28: 1996**

"Think I might have a confession to make," Gene said a little reluctantly as he watched Simon eating the replacement festive fare of toast, crisps and a few biscuits.

Simon looked at him, a scowl still upon his face from some fifty minutes earlier when the smouldering turkey had been dealt with.

"You mean you took the last bag of cheese and onion?" he asked crossly, "thanks for your admission but I already noticed."

"No, it's not that," Gene hid a packet beneath the table, it's about me master skills in the kitchen."

"Yeah, where exactly did _they_ go?" Simon mumbled as he stuffed another handful of crisps into his mouth, "fly south for the winter, did they?"

Gene sighed internally. He was hoping it wouldn't come to this but it was time to make a confession.

"It's not just the wise men that have been following a star," he said, "I think the turkey has, too."

"Gene, what are you even…" Simon closed his eyes and sighed. "Can we have this conversation when you've not been drinking half a bottle of scotch?"

"Believe me, when you hear this you'll polishing off the other half," Gene told him. Finally Simon stopped the stares, the accusing glances and the angry mumbling. There was something different in Gene's eye.

"What?" he asked, a little cautiously.

Gene shifted his weight awkwardly in the chair as though he didn't want to be there.

"No one hates the whole… time-shifting, metaphysical bollocks more than me," he said, "you know that. Which is why, considering the kind of TV programmes you've always got on the box it's a miracle we haven't killed each other yet." He sighed, "But even I have to admit. Something's been going on." He finally looked Simon in the eye. "Bloody turkey. Turkey_s,"_ he corrected, "because there were two of them. Swapping back and forth like a couple of poultry practical jokers."

"What are you talking about?" Simon feared that he was losing the plot. _Or_ that _Gene_ was.

"I'm saying," Gene began, "that I thought I was going crazy. Every time I shoved an apple up its backside something happened. Turkey swap time." He knew he wasn't explaining himself very well. "Bolly's desk. Stringer's name block. Big batch of bloody pens I found on the floor. Things have been going back and forth, Simon."

Simon stared at Gene. He knew now what he was trying to say, but that didn't mean he could make any more sense of it.

"What has a turkey got to do with Alex's desk?" he asked.

"Think I ended up with a turkey from the future," Gene said awkwardly, "Shoebury, every time I looked in the bloody oven the bird was different. Done more, done less, apple or no apple… one point it was covered with half a bloody pig." He looked a little guilty, "it's not the only thing that's happened either."

"What do you mean?" Simon still wasn't sure he was following.

"The tree," said Gene.

Simon's eyes turned to the beautifully decorated item in the corner.

"What about it?" he asked.

Gene felt his cheeks turning red. Blushing wasn't his style, but he couldn't help it. He could always blame it on the scotch.

Wasn't exactly all me own work," he coughed slightly.

"What do you mean?"

Gene realised he had to admit to the whole truth. There was no other way around it.

"Started dressing the bloody thing and suddenly there were stars on the ceiling," he began.

Suddenly Simon's whole expression changed. With anxiety in his eyes he stared at Gene.

"Stars?" he repeated, "You mean –"

Gene nodded.

"I'm talking about the things you get in the sky, not the ones having affairs plastered all over the tabloids." He stared at the tree. "Looked up, three bloody balls appeared.

"They what?"

"Three festive little bastards," Gene shook his head slightly, "No idea where they came from. They weren't there two seconds before." He rubbed his forehead. "Scared seven shades of shit out of me, I don't mind telling you. Thought a glass or two of the good stuff might sort me out, went to the kitchen, poured meself a large one and chickened out of going back to the tree. When you got back I was already reaching for a tenner." He wished he had some scotch right there and then as he admitted, "when you pushed me winnings in me hand instead I didn't have the foggiest what was going on. Walked out here and found yer tree full of festive delights."

Simon placed his hand against his forehead which was starting to throb.

"Are you seriously trying to tell me… the tree… decorated _itself?"_

Gene shook his head slowly.

"No, Simon. I'm saying someone decorated their _own_ tree and some of your stupid X-Files crap bollocks moved all their stuff onto_ this_ tree."

Simon stared at the branches before them, every ball elegantly positioned, every decoration standing out for its beauty and perfect placement. He was about to tell Gene off for talking bollocks but the more he thought about it the more sense Gene's rambling made. Gene could fight the criminal population of Fenchurch without fear, put someone in their place with one visit to the filing cabinet and drink anyone – with the possible exception of Kim – under the table, but he didn't have an artistic bone in his body. He thought about Gene's strange response when he'd congratulated him on a job well done, the way he was constantly staring at the tree in bemusement. It seemed to far-fetched, it seemed completely ridiculous and yet the evidence was all pointing in that direction. He stared on, bewildered and confused, then his eyes turned back to Gene.

"In that case," he began dryly, "you owe me a tenner." He paused. "In fact, you owe me _two_ tenners – I want mine back, and the one you owe me for not decorating the tree on top of it!" he hesitated. "And the slap-up meal the day after? Your sudden array of cookery skills?"

Gene cleared his throat.

"Not exactly mine either," he mumbled.

Simon slapped his forehead.

"God, Gene, what happened? Open the oven and find a feast in there?"

"Don't know what happened that time, Simon," he admitted, "Must have done a brain swap. One minute I was staring at me tins of tuna, the next I was serving up a masterpiece."

"Tuna…" Simon's whole posture became angry and defensive. "Ugh! You were going to make fishy biscuits, weren't you?"

Gene coughed.

"It's me signature dish," he protested.

"Yeah, and you'll be putting that signature on your charge sheet when you get sent down for poisoning," Simon gagged. He paused and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to work out what was going on. "All that margarine…"

Gene shook his head.

"Really wasn't mine," he said, "just appeared there."

"The scotch and biscuits last night?"

"Same."

"Shit." Simon felt a shudder pass down his spine as he stared at his hands, just needing a distraction of some kind – any kind. He shook his head slowly, wishing that he had some kind of answers. Finally, he looked back at Gene. "What does this mean?" he asked.

Gene wished he knew.

"It means I owe you twenty pounds," he said.

"Gene –"

"I know what you meant, Simon," Gene said quickly, "Just don't have an answer for you."

As the two men returned slowly to eating their unusual, junky Christmas dinner a strange silence fell between them. Neither really knew what to say. Things were getting stranger day by day, they both knew it. Where it was leading, neither really wanted to contemplate.

~xXx~

"Shoebury."

Simon froze and closed his eyes for a moment. No good would ever come from hearing the word _'Shoebury'_ spoken in that tone. A few hours had passed since Gene confessed that odd things had been going on recently and that his suddenly acquired cookery and decorative skills were not of his own doing. They'd both fallen into silence for the most part, eating far more junk than was advisable and drinking far too much to blot out the strangeness of the day. Finally the food had gone, half the drink depleted and the television became their home for the evening. Neither were really watching the programmes that were playing but at least it meant they didn't have to talk about stars, turkeys and trees.

Until Gene spoke his name in _that_ tone.

Simon turned slowly towards him. He wasn't looking completely happy.

"What have I done now?" he sighed, "apart from wearing my jumper, I mean."

Gene scratched his head.

"They have a new tradition at Christmas now," he began, "apparently people wrap kind offerings in gaudy paper and give them to other people. They're called 'presents'." He took a swig of scotch. "Funny though, I've yet to experience this fine tradition."

Simon groaned and slid off the couch, across the floor towards the tree.

"They've been sitting under there all day, you could have gone and got them at any time, he said, reaching under and pulling out a few parcels, one at a time. For a split second his fingers brushed a small, black and white picture which skimmed across the floor out of reach and unnoticed. He began to sort through the parcels, shoving them one by one towards Gene.

"Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours –" he was left with one small package with his own name scrawled on it, on the back of an old lottery ticket. "And mine. Apparently." He stared at Gene. "wherever did you find this most original tag?"

"Just open the bloody thing," Gene told him.

Simon pulled a face.

"I thought I might keep it for a rainy day," he mumbled.

"It bloody is," Gene nodded to the window, "Open yer bloody present."

Simon eyed Gene warily then began to remove the wrapping paper. Inside he found a metallic object.

"A corkscrew," he said.

Gene nodded.

"Merry Christmas, Shoebury."

Simon raised an eyebrow.

"_My_ corkscrew."

"Which you lost last week," said Gene.

"At the same time you declared you'd _got me a present_," Simon added.

"You could be more grateful," Gene told him, "you got a pair of bloody puppets this morning too, what more do you want?" he reached down for the first gift from his pile and looked back at Simon as he lifted what was clearly a bottle. "You could have put more effort into disguising it," he said.

"You _asked_ for scotch," Simon protested.

"And now you've bloody told me what it is!" cried Gene, "taking away the final element of surprise!"

"Oh, bugger this," Simon mumbled, throwing his corkscrew across the floor and climbing back on the couch.

Gene finished unwrapping the bottle, nodded in approval, sat it down beside him and reached for the next one. It appeared almost identical to the first.

"You've put _so_ much effort into yer wrapping," Gene mocked.

"That's what _you_ think, that one's a dinosaur," Simon mumbled sarcastically.

Gene may not have been impressed with Simon's wraping skills but the two bottles of scotch went some way to making up for that. He picked up the next package and ripped off the wrapping paper, taking no time to comment on Simon's wrapping this time. The item was fairly innocuous, small and flat and Gene had no idea what to expect. What he _didn't_ expect was a children's door plaque bearing a picture of a particular character from the Teletubbies and the slogan; _'I Love The Noo-Noo'._

"What are you trying to suggest, Shoebury?" Gene's glare made Simon gulp nervously.

"I thought you _liked_ the Teletubbies," he protested.

"First of all, repeat that sentence to anyone and you'll be wearing yer ears on the inside of yer head," Gene threatened, "and secondly, the bloody Noo-Noo is a blot on an otherwise bloody fine television show."

Simon held up his hands a little nervously.

"Alright, alright," he protested, "I'm sorry! Jesus, I had no idea you felt so strongly about a vacuum cleaner on legs."

"that thing's a bloody insult to vacuum cleaners," Gene told him. He shook his head in disapproval and reached for the next item, a larger package which definitely seemed to intrigue him. He glanced at Simon who was looking increasingly anxious by the moment. "What's _that_ look for?"

"What look?"

"The look as though you need to change yer underwear," Gene narrowed his eyes.

"Just get it over with," Simon sighed, "open the present, swear at me, threaten me and then we can all get on with our lives."

Gene gave an angry grumble and began to open the large present. He tore away the paper, a little like a child who couldn't wait to see what was inside, then froze as an incorrectly coloured teletubby stared back. His eyes rose to Simon.

"What the bloody hell do you call this?" he demanded.

Simon gave a deep sigh.

"I believe those under the age of five call him Tinky-Winky," he said.

"Where's me Dipsy?" Gene demanded.

"Gene, I couldn't _get_ Dipsy," Simon protested, "I had to bribe three children and two parents to get hold of _that_ one for you!"

Gene looked from Simon to the teletubby and back again.

"Is this purple piss-artist or is he not a teletubby of your particular persuasion?" he demanded.

"Oh for god's sake, you'll sleep on my couch but you won't own a gay teletubby?" cried Simon. He slapped his forehead. "And anyway, he's not actually gay… It's an urban legend!"

"He's got a bloody handbag!"

"That's not being gay, that's crossdressing!"

Gene wasn't sure about any of this. Not at all. All he knew was that this was not the teletubby he was anticipating.

"Bolly would have got me Dipsy," he pouted.

"Well I'll grow a pair of breasts and get a Gillian Anderson haircut next time!" Simon snapped. He shoved the last parcel closer to gene with his foot. "Here. Open your last one. Get it over and done with. I've had enough of this." He got to his feet, stole one of Gene's bottles and marched towards his bedroom door, "Goodnight. Merry bloody Christmas."

Gene picked up the last package and looked from the well-wrapped gift to the door that was in mid-slam. He sighed as he began to remove the wrapping paper and removed a large frame from within. It took him a moment to realise what he was looking at. In the frame were a number of photos and polaroids from various days and nights out in the earlier part of the year, all ones featuring Alex in some form, whether as the focus or in the background. For a moment he almost dropped it.

"Shit," he mumbled, saving it at the last moment. He found to his horror that his hands were shaking. When the hell had Simon put that together? He was torn between the pictures being too painful to regard and between considering it the best gift he could have received. There were a few pangs of guilt stabbing him in the chest as he thought about his reaction to the other presents. He closed his eyes and cursed himself. He hadn't intended to be so cruel and cutting. He realised there was a part of him that was almost blaming Simon for not being Alex.

"Bugger," he mumbled.

That wasn't fair. He knew that much. He couldn't help it. He'd done his best not to think about the fact that he wasn't with her that Christmas. He'd worked hard on busying himself with booze, practical jokes and complaints. None of them took his mind off of her. Not really.

He leaned back and stared at the montage of photographs. Alex's eyes sparkled in every shot. She was so alive.

"Merry bloody Christmas, Bolly," he said quietly, "wherever you are." Starlight shone in the reflection in the glass. It taunted him. Maybe it meant more than he realised. "Maybe me time _is_ up," he said.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Going to stop saying I think I'm getting better because every time I do I get worse :P I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who is still reading, and especially to those who have been reviewing because your thoughts really make me smile and give me a boost. I feel so bad that I haven't responded to your reviews individually, please don't think for a moment I take them for granted, I truly don't – you're awesome x**_


	55. Chapter 29, 2011: Plan Progress

**Chapter 29: 2011**

A chink of light filtering between the slats of the blinds and the gentle kicking inside of her awoke Alex early on Boxing Day morning. She opened her eyes slowly and adjusted her pillow as she laid there, her mind immediately going back to the events of the day before. Different people were passing through her thoughts, but none more so than Molly and Gene. There was an element of denial about her decision to go back to the nineties, she saw that now. As much as she knew it was the right decision for her and for all those close to her it had started to dawn on her for the first time just how much of a big step it was to choose to leave Molly without a mother. She wondered if she would ever deal with the guilt of that.

Her eyes rested upon a collection of objects on her bedside table. After Kim and Robin had disappeared the night before she found a few presents with her name on beneath the tree that her slightly over-exuberant hosts had forgotten to give her and took the liberty of unwrapping them. She smiled slightly as she looked them over; a compilation of hits from the 90s, a book about the girl band phenomenon, a couple of vintage X-files magazines they'd picked up on Ebay and what they'd kindly labelled a _'survival kit'_ which included a pair of earplugs with their most sincere apologies for some of the things she'd witnessed while staying with them.

The earplugs had come in handy the evening before.

She slowly climbed out of bed, her legs still stiff first thing in the morning, and walked to the flip chart where she lifted her pen and crossed _Christmas Day_ off of her list.

"Another day passed, another day closer," she said.

~xXx~

The bed was warm and cosy, Kim observed as she snuggled down in the sheets, waking slowly. She wanted to stay there all day. It was perfect all but for one thing – the empty space beside her. When she realised Robin had disappeared she glanced at the clock. It seemed a little early for him to be up and about when neither of them were at work.

"Rob?" she called experimentally, realising that it was a fairly pointless gesture. It wasn't as though he was going to crawl out of the rug. Shivering a little, she climbed out of the bed, looking for something to wrap around her. Robin's shirt was the closest thing to hand so she slipped in her arms and pulled the soft cotton around her as she tiptoed out of the room. At first she looked towards the kitchen, expecting to see him making coffee or cooking something for breakfast but the room was empty.

"Rob?" she tried again but she quickly found an answer she really didn't want as she heard a retching noise from the bathroom. She closed her eyes and groaned. "Oh, not _this_ again," she mumbled, trotting back to the bedroom and slipping back beneath the warm covers. She sighed internally. She thought he was starting to get over some of his hysterical pregnancy symptoms. Either that, or he was just getting better at hiding them. She knew he was extremely embarrassed about the whole thing, especially his occasional tendencies to panic that an _actual_ baby had found its way mysteriously inside hm.

She awaited his return and eventually he came sheepishly back into the bedroom, looking slightly pale. His expression changed fondly as he saw Kim still wearing his shirt and he commented,

"You should keep that – it looks better on you than on me."

"Rob, is everything OK?" Kim asked, ignoring his comment.

Robin cleared his throat and climbed back into the bed.

"Fine," he said quietly.

Kim looked at him.

"I heard you in the bathroom, Robin."

Robin looked away.

"Hangover," he lied.

"Oh bollocks, I've seen you with a hangover before and you don't throw up," Kim told him, "besides you didn't have that much to drink."

"Overdid it with the Christmas dinner yesterday," Robin said quietly, laying down and looking highly embarrassed. He was aware of Kim's stare fixed upon him.

"Rob, stop it," she said quietly, "I know it's happening again. No point lying to me." She paused and bit her lip. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"You must have been to the bathroom ten times in the night," Kim told him, "you were literally pissing the night away."

"Told you I had too much to drink," Robin mumbled.

"I caught you knitting booties last week!" cried Kim.

"Those were not booties, they were Christmas stockings!" Robin protested, "they just came out the wrong size, that's all!"

"They were pale pink," Kim pointed out.

Robin's cheeks were burning.

"Then maybe they were for Alex or something," he mumbled.

"Rob, I just worry about you," Kim began, "you need to at least speak to a doctor."

"And say what? _Excuse me doctor, I appear to have conceived?"_

Kim rolled her eyes.

"Forget about that stuff for now," she said, "I'm worried about all the throwing up and stuff. And you're still bloated and you didn't even have any beans yesterday." 

"Must have been the sprouts then." Robin flushed.

Kim sighed.

"You didn't _eat_ your sprouts," she said patently, "you put them on my plate when you thought I wasn't looking." She watched Robin as he fell silent and his stare grew distant. She hated pulling him up over this but she was genuinely worried about him. "You don't need to mention my crackpot theory about hysterical pregnancy, Robin, just get the stomach issues treated."

"You think I'm a freak," Robin hung his head.

"_No one_ thinks you're a freak, and _no one's_ being _horrible_ to you," Kim told him, "but it's been a tough year. _Really_ tough. Alex said –"

Robin's eyes opened wide in panic.

"_Alex_ knows?" he cried. He thrust his head into his hands, "Oh great, as though this wasn't already the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to me!"

"She was worried about you!" Kim told him, "she heard you throwing up and found millions of baked bean tins in the recycling box. Speaking of which…" she narrowed her eyes a little, "why are you collecting them?"

"What?"

"There's about twenty of the buggers lurking in the kitchen."

"I didn't want to put them all out for recycling at the same time," Robin protested.

"Why not?"

"I didn't want the bin men to think I was strange."

"And hoarding them in the cupboard isn't strange?" cried Kim. She closed her eyes and sighed as she feared she was about to send Robin into a fit of tears. "Look, Rob, the only thing that really matters is that I'm worried about you. I'm worried that you are ill." She paused, trying to push the hair from his eyes. "Just promise me you'll at least see a doctor? If you're still unwell in the new year?"

Robin sighed, feeling defeated.

"Aren't we busy sending Alex home in the new year?" he mumbled.

"OK, after that," Kim told him, "if you're still throwing your guts up then you'll see someone?"

Robin finally looked her in the eye. She really did seem worried about him and getting herself in a state over it. He didn't want her to do that.

"Alright," he said quietly, "I will."

"Good," Kim sighed. She closed her eyes and moved a little closer to him, just hoping he would stick to his promise. Living with a hysterically pregnant man was exhausting her.

~xXx~

Alex decided she quite enjoyed having Robin's kitchen to herself. Usually he was fussing around, coking something, heating something up or checking for ingredients but both he and Kim seemed to be up late for some reason so she had the fun of the place to herself. She realised how much she missed the simple things; making breakfast for herself and Gene, keeping all the pots and pans where she knew where to find them, having the toaster on the setting that she liked most – it was strange the things she had come to realise she valued.

She noted how much easier it was to make some breakfast now than it had been even a week before. She knew that she still had a way to go but her strength was improving day by day and she knew that she would be strong enough to face whatever Manchester threw in her direction. She had already finished off a sneaky second round of toast when she finally had company and a slightly hassled Kim walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning, ma'am," she said, her smile faltering a little.

Alex frowned.

"Wasn't Robin wearing that shirt yesterday?" she asked.

Kim nodded.

"I've apparently inherited it, she said. She sank into a chair looking somewhat flustered.

"Where_ is_ Robin?" Alex asked.

Kim hesitated.

"He's feeling a bit under the weather this morning," she said quietly, "he'll be out in a few minutes"

Alex nodded, not wanting to push the subject when Kim was clearly uncomfortable about it. She suspected that the impossible patter of tiny feet was to blame and so left it at that. Besides, she had more important things to deal with.

"Kim, when do you go back to work?" she asked, "tomorrow or Tuesday?"

"Tuesday," said Kim, "I actually have the bank holiday off, by some miracle."

"Could I ask you a favour?" Alex asked.

Kim nodded.

"As long as it doesn't involve anything that combines Red Dwarf and tattoos," she sighed.

"No, it doesn't," Alex assured her. she hesitated for a moment. "It involves your desk." She paused. "I'd like to see it."

Kim knew that was coming. It wasn't the first time Alex had spoken about it.

"Are you really sure?" she asked.

Alex nodded.

"I need to see if it's the same one," she told her.

Kim could see from Alex's expression that there was no changing her mind. It didn't stop her from feeling anxious though.

"Alright," she said quietly, "but don't say I didn't warn you. That thing gives me the creeps."

Alex nodded slowly and looked a little sheepish.

"I'm… probably going to be asking you a lot of favours you're not going to approve of this week," she admitted.

"Like what?" Kim asked cautiously.

Alex played with her empty plate.

"I need you to help me get in to visit Evan," she said quietly.

This time Kim really didn't look at all sure.

"Ma'am, I don't think that's a good idea," she said.

"I need to see him, Kim, I already told you that," said Alex, "This is as much about laying my own past to rest as Gene's."

Kim really wasn't certain that it was a good idea for Alex to see Evan for a number of reasons but she knew there was no arguing with her. She gave a reluctant nod and said,

"We'll do what we can to help. You know that. Just make sure you take things as easy as you can."

"I will," Alex nodded, knowing that was unlikely to happen.

As she watched Kim half-heartedly get to her feet and go looking for something for breakfast she realised that her plans were now in progress. All the things that she needed to do before she could move on were slowly taking shape. Throughout Boxing Day and the oh-so-pointless bank holiday beyond it she focused on her list; the things she needed to get ut of the way so that she could concentrate on Gene and finding her way home and with every moment that passed she came a little closer to that goal. She still had a long way to go but wheels were in motion now. Home was calling her name a little louder every day.


	56. Chapter 29, 1996: Geek Cooties

**Chapter 29: 1996**

"_Shoebury."_

Simon froze in his tracks. That was the point at which things had gone steadily downhill the night before; the moment he heard Gene saying _that _word in _that_ tone.

It had been bad enough hearing it the night before but this morning it was coupled with a throbbing hangover, a sour stomach and a strong aversion to having a conversation with Gene before the end of the year. He stood in the kitchen door, aware of Gene's presence at the table but not quite ready to meet his stare.

"What?" he said sharply.

Gene supposed he deserved that.

"Have fun with me scotch last night?" he asked, observing Simon's bloodshot eyes.

"Very much so, thank you," he mumbled, sliding into a chair as gently as he could to avoid shaking his brain around in his skull

Gene nodded.

"Looks like it too," he said. He waited for Simon to respond but a wall of silence greeted him as Simon laid his head on his folded arms across the table. He supposed he was just going to have to suck it up and do the one thing that really didn't come naturally to the Gene Genie: Eating humble pie. He'd rather have eaten fishy biscuits. "So, one alka seltzer or two?" he asked.

"Neither, they fizz too loudly." Simon's words were muffled by his arms but at least he'd spoken. Gene cleared his throat.

"The photos," he said. He watched Simon slowly raise his head a few inches and finally look Gene in the eye. "I appreciated the gesture."

Simon stared at him. With his pulsating brain it took him a moment to work out what Gene meant. When he did, he nodded slowly and closed his eyes.

"Oh_, that,"_ he mumbled, "Yeah." He hesitated and eyed Gene nervously, "_what?"_

Gene cleared his throat again.

"Thanks, Simon," he said.

Simon hesitated.

"You mean I didn't get the wrong colour frame?" he challenged, "or photos of Alex's bad side? Or over-exposed the shots?"

Gene sighed heavily.

"I was unfair," he admitted gruffly, "was a bit out of sorts yesterday."

"You seemed to be plenty in sorts when you were torturing me with puppets yesterday morning," Simon reminded him.

Gene reached for his coffee mug and stared into it.

"Yeah, well, "he began, "I think I might have been overcompensating a bit."

"You _think?"_ Simon huffed.

"I'm trying to _apologise_ here!" Gene cried, "you should think yerself lucky Last time I did that was in nineteen seventy five!"

Simon looked at Gene. He seemed genuinely apologetic.

"Well," he began, a little awkwardly, "I'm glad you liked the frame."

Gene took the last swig of coffee and plonked his mug down loudly.

"I s'ppose you did OK with the Teletubby and all," he admitted grudgingly.

"You've gotten over your toy related bout of homophobia now then?" Simon asked warily.

"As long as he doesn't try anything with Buzz, I think we'll be OK," Gene mumbled.

Simon almost smiled. He tried to remember what the hot toy of 1997 was so that he could be prepared next year but his mind went blank. _Was it a furby?_ God, he hoped not. He still had nightmares about those things. _Could have been a tamagotchi_, he thought to himself. Then he had a horrible thought about the two breeding and creating some kind of super-intelligent hybrid robotic creature and shuddered. It was probably time to stop thinking that far ahead.

"Look, Gene," he began, trying to keep his voice as low as possible since the tremors through his brain were still not dying down, "I always knew yesterday was going to be hard for you. Believe me, I really did."

"You don't know the half of it," Gene exhaled.

"Oh yeah?" Simon challenged, "you've forgotten last Christmas then have you?"

"I only wish I could, bloody Keats kept calling up radio stations to request it," Gene mumbled.

"You know what I mean," Simon warned, "my first Christmas after Robin went home, I _Scrooged _all over the place and gate-crashed your Christmas day. That's why I tried to make things as easy for you as I could."

"I said I was sorry," Gene told him crossly, "what'd you want me to do? You want me to prove it by sitting through a Red Dwarf marathon? Want me to go to work with an _H_ on me head, talking about twentieth century telegraph poles?"

Simon looked at Gene in surprise.

"You've been paying attention," he commented.

"Yeah well, don't have much choice with you on the premises, do I?" Gene huffed, folding his arms, "_Red Dwarf by proxy._ You know, when I smoked I used to get hassled all the time for bloody bringing passive smoking upon you future wimps. No one ever thinks about passive nerdery, do they? Spend a couple of months on yer couch and I can tell you all the lyrics of the bloody Red Dwarf theme tune. Going to make a hospital appointment, ask for a geek vaccination."

"If this is still part of your apology it's not going too well," Simon pointed out with a scowl.

"No, I've moved beyond being sorry now," Gene told him, "I'm trying to get back to situation normal."

Simon sighed. He slowly got to his feet holding his head and said,

"Look, Gene, I accept your apology and I really do understand. And I'm sorry my present-buying and wrapping skills were not up to par. And, more than that, I'm sorry that you were spending Christmas with a nerd instead of with Alex. But right now, all I want is to get some paracetamol and a strong coffee and sleep Boxing Day away. I never liked the bloody day anyway."

Gene nodded slowly.

"fair enough," he said.

He sat in silence as he watched Simon rustling up some painkillers and making a coffee so strong Gene wondered if he was going to need a knife and fork to get through it. He supposed that he would have to find a way to make things up to Simon. Despite himself he still felt bad for his comments the day before. He scratched his head as he thought about the best way to make an apology to Simon. There was… _one_ thing…. that he could think of. But it was going to take some serious pride-swallowing on his part.

And a full geekery anti-contamination suit.

~xXx~

Simon was actually glad to be going back to work the following day. After spending Christmas day upsetting Gene with incorrect presents, then boxing day nursing the hangover from hell he was fairly pleased about the prospect of hiding behind his desk and forgetting that the festivities had ever existed.

Still feeling a little the worse for wear from the Christmas drinking he sighed as he walked through the corridor and parked himself at his desk. It felt as though a lifetime had passed since Christmas eve. Between mutant time-travelling turkeys and puppet revenge it hadn't been the kind of Christmas he wanted to remember.

He couldn't have been more surprised when Eddie arrived to hang up his coat.

"Morning, Sir," he said quietly.

"Eddie," Simon looked up in surprise, "I thought… thought you might have wanted to take a few days off… you know…"

Eddie shook his head but couldn't quite look at Simon.

"Just want to get back into the swing of things," he said.

Simon nodded a little unsure.

"Alright," he said quietly. He watched Eddie turn to leave but called him back. Eddie stopped on the spot and glanced behind him, catching Simon's eye for the first time. Eddie seemed pale and drawn, his eyes were heavy and he looked as though he hadn't shaved or showered in a couple of days. "How… are you doing?" he asked.

Eddie hesitated. He gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Fine," he said blankly.

"After Christmas eve –"

"I don't really want to talk about this, Sir," Eddie said quietly.

Simon hesitated. He wasn't sure what to say. He wished he had the natural patter of Gene or Alex when it came to these matters but he was a fish out of water and hated it. He hoped that he would somehow grow into his role but he still struggled to know how to deal with people like Eddie. Eventually he tried offering a sympathetic smile and a nod.

"If you need anything, any more time, or someone to talk to –"

"I'm fine," Eddie said again.

Simon just nodded. He was out of words now.

"OK," he said quietly as he watched Eddie leave. The man's still, silent watch played on Simon's mind. How and when was Eddie going to find out the truth? It didn't bear thinking about.

~xXx~

Gene closed the door of his office and pulled down the blinds. He nervously peered through them to check no one was in danger of walking in anyway. No, the office was almost empty. _Good_. The last thing he wanted was to be discovered.

He walked quickly to his desk, sat down and pulled open a drawer from which he took a slightly tatty notebook and flicked through until he found a particular page. Pressing the page open, he laid the notebook down, trapped the page under his pen pot and lifted the phone. He dialled the number displayed on the open page and waited for the call to be answered. His eyes flicked nervously from side to side, worrying that someone might be watching or listening as a voice came on the line.

He took a deep breath.

This went against every inch of his nature.

"Kenton, my friend," he began, "DCI Hunt, Fenchurch East. Got a favour to ask of you." he paused and listened as the voice on the line greeted him with a few festive good wishes before cutting him off, "Yeah, already done Christmas. Let's forget about that piles of good will bollocks for now, right?" he paused. "That shipment of nicked clobber, the one with the t-shirts. You still got that rotting in yer warehouse?" he gave a nod at the response. "Need you to do me a favour. Yeah, a gift for a geek. Tall fella, better make it extra-large. What?... No it bloody isn't… you insinuate that thing will ever make it on me fair torso and you'll be eating yer own t-shirt for lunch!"

He ended the call with a couple more specifics, then replaced the receiver.

He felt dirty. He needed a shower.

~xXx~

It was late when Simon got home that night. By mid-afternoon things had gone haywire with several post-christmas toastercide incidents occurring. All the people who had been gifted appliances over the festive period were either victims of attacks from the violent, toasting bastards or reacted in fear at their arrival and went on a homicidal rampage to destroy them before they could attack. By the time Simon had finished dealing with the last such incident it was gone nine and he was exhausted.

He found Gene lazing on the couch, drinking a beer and watching some strange programme about why people shouldn't give toasters for Christmas. He glanced up as Simon walked past.

"Evening, Shoebury," he said, sounding slightly suspicious.

Simon hesitated. He stared at Gene's peculiar expression.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Gene.

Simon wasn't so sure but wasn't in the mood for a discussion.

"I've had a crappy day," he said, "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. Goodnight."

"Night," said Gene, the slighted hint of a smirk on his face. There were a couple of minutes that passed before Simon called out.

_"Gene! Why isn't there any hot water?"_

Gene looked a little sheepish.

"No idea, Shoebury," he replied, adding quietly, "definitely nothing to do with the fifteen showers I took to wash the 'geek cooties' off me."

A moment later a shivering Shoebury came back out of the bathroom.

"I suppose I'll skip the shower and get straight to bed then," he said.

"Sleep tight. Don't let the toasters bite," said Gene.

Simon shuddered.

"Thanks for that," he frowned, "like I needed more nightmares."

He slumped to his bedroom and shut the door behind him, exhausted and annoyed. Even after he switched on the light it was several moments before he saw the plastic bag sitting on his bed. He frowned and tried to work out where it had come from. He was fairly sure he hadn't left it there that morning. Oh god, what had Gene left him now? More puppets? He wouldn't be surprised. Probably a membership pack for the Zig and Zag fan club

He cautiously sat down beside it and lifted it up. The contents of the bag were soft and floppy. He wasn't sure what he was going to find inside or even if he wanted to know but reluctantly he reached inside and pulled out a black t-shirt. He unravelled it and held it up, the _Red Dwarf_ logo staring back at him from the dark fabric. He turned it around and on the back it bore the slogan; _Better smeg than dead._

A strange smile came across his face as he stared at the t-shirt. He used to own the exact same one, many years ago. Of course the slogan had a lightly different meaning to him now than it used to but that wasn't going to put him off. He closed his eyes as he contemplated exactly how much it had taken for Gene to not only procure such an item of nerdery but to actually touch it for long enough to put it in a bag and leave it for him. It might not have quite been as extreme as wearing an H on his head but as far as apologies went it was a pretty good one.

He unfastened his shirt and dropped it to the ground, then pulled the t-shirt over his head. Seeing himself back in something familiar was a revelation to him. Since being stuck in the 90s he'd had to adopt a while new wardrobe, crappy jumper included, and wearing something that he used to sport so often felt strangely comforting.

He opened the door of his bedroom a crack and glanced into the lounge where Gene was feigning sleep on the couch. Simon nodded and gave a slightly distant smile.

"Well," he said quietly, "thank you anyway, Gene. It's brilliant."

He closed the door and left Gene to play the ignorance card, at least until morning.


	57. Chapter 30, 2011: Desk Duty

**Chapter 30: 2011**

It was strange but Alex found herself getting a genuine boost of confidence and spirit from getting ready to head to Fenchurch East with Kim. She knew it was going to be a strange and surreal experience for more reasons than one but the process of getting up early, showering, dressing smartly and doing her hair and make-up brought to mind a normal morning, getting ready for work back in Gene's world. Of course there were major differences – Alex had never worked at Fenchurch East in the real world; her job had required her presence all over the place but she had never been based at length on one station so to see the differences between the station she knew and the one she was about to visit would be strange and she had to admit a kind of morbid fascination about it.

She pulled her smart jacket on and watched it settle at either side of her bump.

"Bugger," she mumbled, feeling slightly self-conscious about her appearance. She knew full well what the world thought about her pregnancy, none of them knew the truth and never would. She already knew all eyes would be upon her for that. She hoped the jacket might hide it a little but the opposite happened. Oh well, there was nothing she could do about that, she supposed. She would just have to display it with pride instead.

Kim was already eating breakfast when Alex joined her in the kitchen.

"You look smart, Ma'am," she commented, eying her with approval, "you do realise you're not actually going to work, right?"

"Yes, thank you, I am fully aware of that," Alex said with a wry smile. She poured herself some cereal and began to eat, all the while feeling anxious and apprehensive about the day ahead. As though she could read her mind Kim asked quietly,

"Are you really sure about this? There's still time to change your mind."

Alex shook her head and looked at Kim seriously.

"I need to see it for myself," she said firmly, "I need to know for sure." She saw Kim looking worried and burdened. "Kim, I'll be fine. It's not like I'm going to be so shocked I'm going to go into labour. You don't need to worry about me so much." She saw Kim look a little embarrassed. She seemed to have been taking up a worrywart post, fussing around Alex like a mother hen. "Where's Robin?"

Kim's worried expression grew a little more anxious.

"He's… he's feeling a little off colour," she said quietly, "he'll be out in a minute."

Alex couldn't; help but feel slightly worried about Kim. She seemed to be taking on anxieties about the welfares of others and they were getting to her. She wondered if it was a natural instinct that Kim had; if being separated from her children meant she needed someone to worry about and fuss over and projected that onto those around her. It made Alex think about her time in Gene's world and the way she had taken so many people under her wing as they found their way there. Maybe that was her own way of deflecting her motherly instincts, away from Molly?

Robin emerged looking exactly as Kim had described him; off-colour. He sat down at the table but made no motion towards getting anything to eat.

"Is… everything OK?" Alex asked a little cautiously.

Robin nodded, torn between asking Alex how long morning sickness was supposed to go on for and wanting to slap himself for asking stupid questions when he was a man and was never _actually_ going to experience that particular ailment.

"I'm OK," he said quietly.

Kim knew that a change of subject was needed, and fast, so she cleared her throat.

"Ma'am, here's what we're going to do this morning," she said, "you'll come in with me and we'll get you signed in as a visitor. I'll show you the desk and tell you anything you need to know, and then Rob will take you home later in the morning. You're welcome to get a coffee and wait in the canteen until then." She watched Alex's expression grow worried. "It's OK, _that_ woman's not there and everyone's posterior seems to be in balance with the rest of them."

A wave of relief came over Alex as she smiled and nodded.

"Alright," she said.

"But you can still change your mind at any time," Kim told her.

"About the canteen?" Alex joked. She knew that wasn't what Kim meant but this was going to be hard enough. The last thing she needed was an atmosphere.

~xXx~

There was a strange fluttering in the pit of Alex's belly as she followed Kim through the station and this time it had nothing to do with the baby. The strange feeling of déjà vu, being in a place she knew so well and yet offset by the different décor and age of the real world made her feel nervous, yet excited. In a way she was glad that she had seen it. It helped her to realise that, however many similarities there were, this was not her home any more.

She felt a little put out and having to wear a visitor's badge. It felt wrong. She also felt aware of the many stares that came her way as she walked along.

"I knew the stupid jacket was a mistake," she mumbled, trying to pull it across her bulge.

"I don't think it's the jacket they're staring at," said Kim, "I think it's more the _miracle-woman-wakes-from-coma_ they're staring at."

Whichever they saw when they looked at her, all the eyes in her direction made Alex feel somewhat uncomfortable.

She was glad when Kim led her to CID, a place where she felt a little more on home territory even though it was full of people she didn't know. It was strange and surreal to see no sign of Bammo or Terry there. She followed Kim past several desks until they reached the one that made Kim shiver every time she set eyes upon it. She turned to Alex, about to give her an introduction to the piece of furniture she'd come to visit but a voice took them both by surprise.

"DI Drake?"

They turned to see a slightly baffled DCI Huston walking towards them. Alex resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She managed to persuade her lips into a false smile and said,

"Good morning."

Huston looked terribly confused.

"We… I don't remember asking you in…" he began, "are you here to chase up the apology that Stringer has…" he coughed, "_requested_… from DI Hamilton? Because if so you may be waiting a while. Apparently following a… _certain complaint_ she's off on long term leave for stress…" he glanced at Kim who looked slightly ashamed. Only slightly though.

"No, sir," she began, "Alex – DI Drake – had just come in with me this morning to see the station."

Huston frowned.

"Oh?"

Alex's false smile managed to move up a notch.

"I'm thinking about… where to focus my career when I've recovered," she lied, "I've heard good things about this station."

Huston puffed up proudly.

"Well, I do like to think I run a tight ship in CID," he said, "there's no sleeping on my watch."

"_Not unless he's making a speech,"_ Alex was sure she heard someone mumble from behind her but managed not to laugh.

"I'm sure you do," she said.

Huston turned to Kim.

"Can I have a word in my office?" he asked.

Kim looked a little nervous. She hoped that the 'word' wasn't going to involve legal proceedings from a traumatised Hamilton.

"Uh… sure," she said. She turned to Alex, "You can… wait here," her smile waivered slightly, _"at my desk."_

Alex's smile in return was a little weak.

"Thank you, Kim," she said gently. She breathed in deeply as she watched her friend trail reluctantly after DCI Huston, then found her fingers stretching out towards the surface of the desk. They skimmed the black paint that the wood had been repeatedly coated with, feeling the shiny surface beneath them. Just from touching the desk she felt a shiver through her body as though the wood and layers of lacquer held the energy of its history within them. She gave a slight gasp as she exhaled without even knowing why and found herself sliding into the char.

"_Like I've never been away,"_ the words slipped out before she knew what she was saying. It had been many years since she'd sat at that desk. After she'd been promoted to DCI she'd been given her own department, her own office and of course a different desk but she had never forgotten the one she'd spent the first three years in Gene's world sitting behind.

Her eyes scanned the surface and came to rest upon an area that sent chills through her body. Despite the layers of paint she could still see the dip beneath them as four figures had been scratched deeply into it. Her fingers moved across to them, felt them gently, relished the moment. Her eyes closed and her lips parted as she found herself sighing quietly. This wasn't how she had expected to feel in the slightest. She had expected to feel disturbed, creeped out, traumatised almost. Instead the most overwhelming feeling of calm and peace overtook her. A taste of her other life was right there beneath her fingers. _The call of home._

If anything, sitting there at the desk and feeling it – rock solid and sturdy – beneath her fingers only served to remind her that Gene's world was there still, waiting for her to return, and gave her more of a boost than she had imagined possible. This was a firm symbol of the passage between two worlds and if she'd made it through one way then she sure as hell was going to find her way back again.

She became aware that some of the other people in the office were looking at her strangely as she caressed the desk's surface and realised that she'd probably stumbled into some kind of peculiar furniture porn. She drew her hands back and turned her attention to the window in the door of Huston's office instead. She felt a little concerned that Kim might be in trouble for her scathing attack on Hamilton but all that she could see was her friend being approached with a handful of leaflets and forms which she seemed to be taking great pains to avoid. Finally she seemed to relent to get him off her back and emerged from the office looking frustrated and annoyed. For a horrible moment Alex felt sure she could see actual steam emerging from Kim's ears.

"_Just think it over, we don't need an answer yet!"_ Huston's voice called after her but was half drowned out by Kim's mumbled moaning.

"Bloody fast track," she muttered, flapping the handful of papers she'd been given, "you make one_ slightly_ hot headed complaint about a snotty nosed DI and suddenly you've got stations fighting over you."

"What's this?" Alex wasn't sure she'd followed what Kim was talking about.

"God, I wish I knew," Kim sighed and leaned heavily against the desk, "I'm being chased for some fast track career development shit. I think my career's been developed enough for one year."

"Don't knock back a good opportunity, Kim," Alex warned her, "If someone's seen your potential then take every opportunity that comes your way."

"I don't want to get out of my depth," Kim said, a little more quietly. She opened the drawer of her desk and threw the papers into it, out of sight, but realised a moment too late that her drawer was already full. "_Shit!"_ she cried, "_bandages!"_

"Pardon?" Alex frowned.

Kim took the papers back out and revealed a drawer full of items.

"Look," she cried accusingly, "bandages, plasters, even a thermometer… I've inherited Susannah's fucking first aid kit!" A combination of the strange occurrence and Kim's thoroughly outraged reaction caused Alex to let out a giggle which earned her a glare. "It's not funny!" Kim cried, "As though the desk wasn't bad enough you should see some of the shit that ends up in it. There was a picture of Malcolm the other day." She shuddered at the memory as Alex bit her lip and tried not to laugh.

"Sorry, Kim," she said, "no one should have to go through that."

"You could see the velvet trousers and everything."

This time Alex began to regret her giggling fit. Now she was starting to feel a little off-colour at the memory too. She decided changing the subject as quickly as possible was the best approach.

"The desk," she began.

Kim's whole demeanour changed.

"Is it…?" she began as Alex nodded.

"It was mine," she said quietly.

"_Shit."_ Kim wished that Alex wasn't in her chair. She _really_ needed to sit down. She had to settle for leaning against the desk instead. "How…. How do you feel about that?"

Alex breathed in deeply, then gave a little smile.

"Good, actually," she said honestly, "I didn't think that I would. But it's given me hope." She gave a firm nod. "The desk had to have come back here for a reason. If a hulking great lump of wood can skip worlds then so can I." she felt herself growing more confident with every word. "I'll make it home."

At first Kim wasn't sure whether she believed Alex. She had felt so sure that the sight of the desk would disturb her deeply. But there was a sparkle in Alex's eye that she hadn't seen since she first woke up. It made Kim smile.

"Well… well, good," she said with a nod. "I'm glad, Ma'am. Really glad to hear that."

"And I'm glad you let me see it," Alex told her, cautiously getting out of the chair and staring at the dent in the desk top one more time, "Thank you, Kim." For a moment her eyes fell upon something else that seemed to be written on the surface of the desk, further over from the original graffiti. She frowned and leaned a little closer. _"There was a drug dealer called Nailer, who was thought to be hung like a –"_ She flinched and swallowed hard. "Oh, Kim, that's –"

"Revolting, disgusting, disturbing… you don't have to tell me," Kim rubbed her forehead, "I keep trying to cover it over but my stuff keeps vanishing."

"Who'd… _write_… such a thing?" Alex asked.

"I told you about DI March," Kim reminded her.

Alex nodded slowly.

"Oh yes," she said.

"Remind me to show you the _Dispatches_ episode."

"Or not," Alex raised an eyebrow and Kim laughed. Alex straightened up her jacket and took a step back. "Kim, I meant what I said. Thank you so much for this. This has helped me a great deal." She gulped, "at least it had until I saw the limerick." She took another step. "I'll leave you to it, Kim. I presume the canteen is –"

"Same old place," Kim smiled, "Rob will be there soon."

Alex nodded and smiled.

"See you later," she said quietly and prepared to walk towards the canteen, for the first time in history unafraid of sprouts and large arses.

~xXx~

Robin wasn't sure what kind of condition he was going to find Alex in as he arrived at the canteen but he certainly hadn't expected to find her looking contented and confident. He joined her at the table as she finished off something that looked like it had been fairly delicious, a few pastry crumbs and a little whipped cream left on the plate.

"Well?" he asked, "how was the desk reunion?"

Alex had a new warmth to her smile.

"A resounding success," she said. She looked at him seriously. "I needed to see that. It's helped. I know I'm on the right track."

Robin couldn't have been more surprised by the positive feeling that Alex had received from seeing it. He gave a slightly stunned smile and got up from his seat..

"Well that's… that's great," he said, "I was fearing the worst. Kim's been freaking out over that thing every day." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "Are you ready to go?"

Alex nodded and stood up wearily. She felt a little frustrated that her simple act of going to see a desk had worn her out so much. She knew she was going to have to be sensible with all that she still had to cross off her list.

"I'm ready," she said.

~xXx~

All the way back to Robin's Alex thought about the desk, and the strange contents of its drawer. The worlds must have still been incredibly close for things to be passing back and forth that way. It made her feel closer to Gene than she had since she had first awoken and that was a feeling she kept burning inside of her throughout the day.

All through an afternoon and evening of mundane normality she kept focused on her goal. It seemed just a little more obtainable now than it had before.

~xXx~

She hadn't had the dream for a while. But after the brush with her old desk the day before it was only natural for it to be playing on her mind.

There she was again, watching the world go by outside the window as the car moved steadily towards her destination. The motorway zoomed past her as signs directing her to Manchester and the north were all around. With every moment that passed she felt just a little closer to Gene. She was getting there. She knew that. She was on a countdown and getting closer day by day.

_I'm coming, Gene. I'll be there soon._

She could feel the anticipation building as she focused on the journey. The closer she came to Manchester, the closer she would come to helping Gene find peace in the real world, but suddenly the dream seemed to skip, like a TV channel changing. From the familiarity of her dream's journey to Manchester she suddenly found herself facing a different image, one that had never been present in her dreams before; a familiar pub doorway through which she had once passed herself only to take a leap of faith from the window. But someone else was passing through its doors this time.

_No, Gene, wait - please…_

_Gene, I'm coming… just hold on –_

Then as quick as a flash the image changed again, a fizzing like static on a television set and then a split-second image of a shop followed by one loud bang causing panic all around before her eyes flew open and she sat up in bed, her palm pressed to her chest as she felt her hart racing. She took several; gulps of air and desperately tried to calm herself down.

"It's Ok," she told herself as though trying to convince herself of that fact, "it was just a dream… that's all."

But now she'd seen it the worry was there. Gene was starting to lose hope and she knew she was on a countdown in more ways than one.

~xXx~

"Kim, this is so unnecessary," Robin mumbled with embarrassment, hiding under his hospital smock.

"We're going to put an end to this nonsense once and for all," Kim told him as the ultrasound technician squirted a dollop of gel on his exposed middle and began to push it around with the scanning wand.

"I am so humiliated," Robin's cheeks couldn't possibly have burned any hotter than they already were.

"This is the only way," Kim told him, "you'll see for yourself there's no baby in there and then you can put this nonsense behind you."

"It wasn't 'nonsense' when you went printing out stuff from the internet, was it?" Robin mumbled.

"Yes – at that point we were talking about a hysterical pregnancy," Kim pointed out, "now you think there's an actual baby in there!"

"I felt it kicking!" Robin protested.

"Nothing kicked you!" cried Kim, "although it can be arranged…" she eyed him warily, warning him to behave.

Robin pouted and watched the ultrasound technician as she moved the wand around his abdomen.

"How long is this going to take?" he whined, "I need a wee."

"Full bladder's a necessity, Rob," sighed Kim.

"Yes, but this ultrasound is not a necessity!" Robin told her, his outrage halted by a slightly nervous sound from the technician.

"Uh, Mister Thomas, I just need to speak to my colleague for a moment. Excuse me."

Robin froze.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing to worry about," the technician's smile was false and stilted, "I'll be right back."

Alarmed eyes turned to each other as Kim and Robin exchanged a worried glance.

"She's found something," Robin whispered.

"Come on, Rob, you don't know that," Kim began but her own heart was pounding.

"There must be something wrong with me," Robin swallowed, "you saw her face, right? There's something the matter with me, Kim…"

"Robin, don't get ahead of yourself," Kim urged him, "just wait until she comes back."

They didn't have to wait very long until the technician came in with a colleague. She began indicating things on the screen to her and then started moving the wand around Robin's stomach again.

"What is it?" Robin whispered, his voice shaking.

"Is everything OK?" Kim asked quietly. Before anyone could respond, to Kim's absolute horror she noticed that the 'colleague' the technician had called in was wearing an ID badge declaring her to be a midwife.

"Yes… yes, everything's OK…" the technician began, with a nod from her colleague, "we've got some clear images, nice full bladder, Robin…"

"Yes, but images of what?" Robin demanded.

The technician tilted the screen for them to see.

"Your baby," she smiled happily.

Kim's stomach dropped and her heart ceased to beat.

"What?" she cried.

"What?" added Robin.

The technician pointed to the screen.

"Look, he's waving at you!"

"_AAARRRRGGGHHHHHHH_!" screamed Kim.

"_AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"_ Added Robin.

"This isn't possible!" cried Kim, "He's a man! He doesn't have a womb! And the only eggs he has are in the fridge at home! He can't have a baby!"

"I think you're about twelve weeks gone," the midwife told Robin.

"Are you taking your folic acid?" the technician asked him.

"My folding what?" cried Robin.

"He's not taking folic acid because he's_ not pregnant_!" cried Kim, "I demand a second opinion! Get another machine! Get another technician!" she paused, "and what's that ostrich doing over there?" she frowned as a troupe of ballet dancers wearing frankly quite terrifying Evan masks came trouping through the imaging room. "Oh fuck, it's a nightmare, isn't it?" she sighed, one hand on her forehead, "another bloody nightmare…"

As the dream faded out and her eyes opened wide she found herself right there in her bedroom, Robin lying in bed beside her. She breathed a sigh of relief and cursed herself for the stupidity of her night-time thoughts. She needed to get rid of those nightmares. Robin was no more pregnant than Nick Nailer was.

She shuffled a little closer to his bare back for comfort and pressed her face against the ink on his shoulder, laying a gentle kiss against his skin. He mumbled slightly in his sleep and seemed to shuffle back against her, knowing she was close by. She wished that she could stop taking on everyone else's worries but she couldn't seem to switch off her mind. She was worried about Robin, worried about Alex - her brain was constantly on the go, even while she was sleeping.

She longed for sleep to come and soothe her but images of knocked-up Robins kept dancing through her mind. She looked at the clock. It was only half past 4.

"It's going to be a long night," she whispered.

~xXx~

After her nightmare it had taken Alex several hours to fall back to sleep and by the time she had it was almost morning. She managed to catch up on a little sleep and awoke to find it was ten already. She cursed herself for oversleeping and quickly dressed herself. She hated missing the first couple of hours of the day, especially when she had such an important one ahead.

The flip chart reminded her that day was the day for planning her itinerary and route for Manchester. She felt as though she was almost starting out with nothing. It was going to take her some time to wrap her head around exactly what she wanted or needed to do. She gathered up the tools that she needed – Kim's old laptop, a road map, a trusty notebook and a pen – and took them into the lounge to spread out across the floor with them.

She had barely managed to get as far as switching on the laptop when a noise made her jump.

"Who's there?" she demanded, holding her notebook aloft like a makeshift weapon, but to her relief only Kim appeared at the doorway.

"Woah," she froze, a little shocked herself, "Ma'am, put the notebook down – it's only me!"

Alex's heart began to race all over again. She set the notebook on the ground and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Kim," she said a little guiltily, "I thought you were a burglar."

"So you were going to attack me with your notebook?" Kim asked, "I know the pen is supposed to be mightier than the sword but I've not heard the same about paper."

"_Ha ha ha,"_ Alex rolled her eyes as her pulse started to return to normal. She looked at Kim curiously as she sank into the couch. "I'm sorry Kim, I assumed you'd be at work by now."

"I called in sick," Kim said, her tone a little awkward.

Alex frowned slightly.

"Pulling a sicky?" she asked, "that's not like you."

"I _am_ sick," Kim protested, before adding quietly, "…of bloody forms and fast track promotions. Had enough of that yesterday." She saw Alex looking at her incredulously and sighed. "Sorry. Ma'am. Look, I had a nightmare and didn't sleep well. Took me ages to get back to sleep. Just woke up feeling really rubbish in the end."

Alex nodded. She knew what that was like.

"Sorry, Kim," she said, "that makes two of us."

"You had a nightmare too?" Kim asked.

Alex nodded but wasn't sure she wanted to talk about it.

"Getting closer to D-Day," she said, "I suppose it's playing on my mind a little."

"You need to remember to take things easy and relax, Ma'am," Kim said anxiously, "I thought yesterday might have been a bit much for you."

"Yesterday was _fine,"_ Alex said patiently, "and besides, that's why I spaced out the next few days and I'm spending today planning the route. I never have to go further than the kitchen." She became aware of a pang of hunger and began to climb up from the floor. "Speaking of which," she said, hauling herself up on the coffee table, "I haven't had any breakfast yet. Do you want anything?"

Kim shook her head as she leaned back limply against the couch.

"No thanks," she said quietly, "not really hungry."

It was only then that Alex realised how pale and listless Kim seemed, and that wasn't like her. It was all very well for Kim to advice Alex to relax but Kim needed to take her own advice.

"You actually don't look well," she said.

"I'm just tired."

"Stressed is more like it," Alex commented. She couldn't help but worry about her. Kim was trying to work two jobs, both very different but each stressful in their own right, facing an imminent divorce and custody hearing whilst worrying far too much about her houseguest and her hysterically pregnant boyfriend. That, and finding pictures of Malcolm on her desk, which would be enough to drive _anyone's _blood pressure sky high. "I think you at least should eat _something_ to keep your strength up."

"I ate plenty over Christmas to last me until two thousand and fourteen," Kim groaned, "I feel like I've put on about three stone."

"Everyone puts on weight at Christmas,."

"Yeah, well, you've got an excuse," Kim pointed out.

Alex gave a gentle laugh but she couldn't help but worry. She knew that her plans to get home affected Kim and Robin too and she hadn't taken on board how much stress they were both under. She decided to keep an eye on them and to make sure she kept back from them as much of the stress as possible. This was _her_ journey and she didn't want to lean too heavily on anyone to make it.

It took her a few minutes to make some toast and find some orange juice to sustain her through the morning as she worked on her plans. Despite Kim's protests she sat a plate of toast upon her knees and insisted she eat something that morning. Kim picked at it for a while but couldn't really work up the energy to eat very much. Instead she decided to focus her remaining strength on helping Alex to work out exactly how to approach her trip to Manchester. She was a little confused by all the maps and journey notes that she was making.

"Rob's got a satnav, you know," she said, "I'm sure we'll be fine."

"There are one or two detours I want to make," Alex said quietly, her eyes falling upon a large area of field upon the map, "and I want to keep my options open. Trust me, Kim. I think paper maps and directions will be more useful than you realise."

Kim shrugged. She was sure the satnav would be sufficient but she trusted Alex's instinct and if she felt paper maps would be better then she wasn't going to argue.

Alex worked tirelessly through the morning and afternoon, compiling all her ideas and her intentions as she tried to work out exactly what she needed to do to help Gene to find peace in the real world. By the time Robin arrived home she had ten more pages of her notebook filled with plans and suggestions. Kim's sick day had proven extremely useful to Alex as she had someone to talk her thoughts through with and to plan with. She knew many of them might lead to dead ends and she couldn't say for sure which if any would head her ultimately back to1996 but finally she had a structure for her trip.

There was an ultimate list at the back of her notebook, order _TBA_ but each one a definite step to her goal.

The nineties were so close now she could almost hear the Britpop ringing in her ears.


	58. Chapter 30, 1996: Manchester Calling

**Chapter 30: 1996**

Simon found that Gene had already set off for work by the time he awoke the next morning.

"_Damn,"_ he mumbled, "you can run but you can't hide forever, Hunt. I'll thank you for this t-shirt sooner or later."

He pottered around the kitchen to get some breakfast, feeling somewhat resentful that his latest cases had made him wholly unable to ever enjoy a slice of toast again, and settled upon a cup of coffee and some cornflakes instead. He was still somewhat shocked by the gift he'd found the night before. It had taken him a while but he felt as though he was just starting to understand Gene. He was all for doing an occasional good deed, as long as no one knew about it or acknowledged it. Most people would go to great lengths to hide their wrongdoings – for Gene it worked in reverse.

He made his way to work, hoping to find Gene in CID but to his frustration he found that everyone was already out after a tip-off had revived a cold trail and a killer was on the verge of being apprehended. Simon supposed that took precedent over being thanked for a t-shirt so he couldn't really complain about it. He would just have to wait until later – presuming he didn't lose his life to some sort of bread-heating appliance in the meanwhile.

~xXx~

"How can you be so utterly blind and stupid?"

Keats had not had a good Christmas. In fact, he hadn't had a good year. There had been an occasional high point of course – hitching a ride to 2011 had been a bonus and he'd almost managed to destroy Simon's life at one point but still things always had a habit of backfiring and blowing up in his face. His current scheme to ruin Simon's life had started off so well but it had hit a rut.

The rut was called _Simon's Ignorance._

How had the man not put together the clues? For god's sake, he'd been sent a fascinating jigsaw puzzle and hadn't even started to put the clues together.

"You call yourself a fucking detective, Simon," Keats shook his head in frustration as he stared at the copies he'd kept back of the delightful gifts he'd been sending Simon throughout the last month. He closed his eyes for a moment. "There are none so blind as those who do not want to see," he muttered.

He supposed that each revelation was enough by itself to shake Simon to the core and he couldn't face looking any further into them. Well, fine. If that's the way things had to be then he would simply have to find a more obvious illustration of the situation. He was going to have to spell it out to him in very clear terms. It wouldn't be as much fun as watching Simon put the pieces together himself but it would have to do.

He reached for the phone and once again made a call to a station some distance north of there. It was time for Simon to learn a little more about his family tree.

~xXx~

He was going through the motions. He felt like he was reading lines from a script. It never used to be this way.

It was many hours later when Gene arrived back in CID and walked somewhat stiffly to his office. Behind him he could hear the others cheering and congratulating themselves on a job well done – and why not? It had been a serious and desperate plan to apprehend the guy before he fled the country. From one tip off they'd had to work fast or risk never catching the bastard. Gene knew that, in the past, after a result like the one they'd had that day there would be much to celebrate, rightful pride all round and a strong reminder of why he was doing his job.

Yet this time… this time, something was missing.

He set a glass on his desk, filled it up with scotch and took a gulp. Through the windows he could see the rest of the team with smiles on their faces and drinks of their own, congratulating one another and doing impersonations of some of the prime moments of the collar. He should have been out there with them. He should have been leading the way to a boozy night of celebration. But his heart was no longer in it.

"_You did well today. We got a result."_

His own words played over and over in his mind. He'd given variations on that theme so many times over the years and had never lacked conviction in his words before, but now? They just sounded hollow. He knew why. He knew there was no Bolly to go and brag to. He knew that there would be no bottle of wine split between them as he talked up his own role in the arrest. He knew there would be no one to share his boasts with that night.

The dorm opened and Poirot looked in.

"Guv?" he said, a glass in his hand, "pub time?"

Gene hesitated. When had the word 'pub' stopped holding appeal? When he had no attractive female sitting beside him in said drinking establishment, that's when. He took another sip of scotch, made a slight face and set the glass down on his desk again.

"Think I'll sit this one out," he said.

Poirot looked as though he might keel over in shock.

"You feeling alright, Guv?" he asked.

Gene sighed internally.

"Right as rain," he lied, "just got to counsel Shoebury tonight to help him over his fear of toasters. Maybe next time."

Poirot looked at him incredulously as though it was all part of an elaborate trick and the moment they left without him he'd be on their back, accusing them of trying to get out of buying him a pint but Gene didn't seem interested in heading out with the rest of the team. Not in the slightest. He gave a slightly cautious shrug.

"Alright, Guv," he said, "see you tomorrow."

Gene nodded and watched as Poirot left, shrugging to the rest of the office as he most likely explained that they would be heading out _sans Guv_. Gene felt a little guilty. He knew he should have been there with them, celebrating a good day's work, but he just didn't have it in him.

"There's only one pub I want to visit right now," he said to himself.

~xXx~

"Fucking toasters."

That just about summed up Simon's thoughts on the day. How he regretted all those years of laughing at Talkie Toaster now. Toasters weren't so funny when they were murdering people and firing hot bready products at innocent bystanders.

What the hell was the time anyway? Clearly late enough for Gene to have fallen asleep, he observed as he found him snoring on the couch. He wondered if he was faking again to escape being thanked for the t-shirt but when he started muttering about teletubby custard and saying _eh-oh_ in his sleep he decided it was probably a genuine snooze.

With a few murmurings of appliance unrest Simon set off for bed, wondering when the wonderful worlds of toasters would ever return to normal. His sleep was fitful and haunted by dreams of hot bready products hitting him in the face and he was forever thankful when the sun finally rose and he was able to get up and leave his nightmares behind.

After a quick shower and shave he was relieved to finally find Gene awake and present at the kitchen table.

"At last," he sighed, gearing up for a thank-you but Gene cut him off with a;

"_Sit down, Shoebury."_

Simon frowned.

"Hang on, I wanted to say thanks for –"

"For not throwing you against the filing cabinet for ignoring me demand?" Gene suggested, "sit down."

Simon couldn't help but sigh as he did as he was told. He supposed Gene was allergic to thank-yous or something. Maybe he should just give up. He didn't want to make Gene break out in hives or something.

"What's wrong?" he asked eventually, noticing that Gene's expression was a little more distant than usual.

"I've been thinking about something," Gene began.

Simon resisted the urge to pull a face and make a comment about there being a first time for everything, even though he knew Gene would say the exact same thing to him if the roles were reversed.

"Sounds ominous," he said instead.

Gene looked up from the mug of strong coffee he wasn't really drinking.

"Been feeling a bit out of sorts lately," he told Simon, "Think I might be getting a bit homesick."

Simon wasn't sure what he meant.

"You want to… what, see if you can get Alex's flat back?" he asked.

Gene looked away for a split second but long enough for Simon to see that wasn't what he meant.

"Rewind a bit further than that," he said, "thinking of paying me home town a visit."

"You're going to go to Manchester for a bit?" Simon asked. Gene didn't reply. "Maybe that's not a bad idea," he said, "give you a break from this place. Blow away the cobwebs." He pulled at his overgrown haircut, "only thing is, how long were you thinking?" He saw Gene open his mouth to reply but hadn't quiet finished yet. "Because, I suppose I'll get put in temporary charge of CID again, and I'm not doing that for more than a week. They've got it in for me. I don't want to give Terry and that lot a second chance at using me as target practice for a game of snot balloons."

"A week," Gene repeated with a hint of a laugh, "no, Simon, I was thinking of something a bit more permanent than that."

Simon stared at him. His words didn't make sense.

"What are you talking about?" he asked quietly.

Gene stared at the table. He wasn't finding this easy.

"Think I might be calling time to things here," he said pointedly, "maybe I've outstayed me welcome. Thinking about going home to visit me roots and then get one in for the road."

He finally met Simon's stare and Simon could see what he was trying not to say in explicit sense. A moment of panic struck him and his mouth opened slightly.

"No…. no, Gene," he started to shake his head, "you can't be saying what I think you're saying."

"I've had people getting me one in for decades, Shoebury," Gene continued, "they'll all be lined up on the bar, taking up room. How's Nelson supposed to serve anyone else?"

Simon shook his head.

"You don't mean that, Gene."

"I'm tired of it, Simon," Simon wasn't used to hearing Gene speak candidly and honestly. His frank tone made him sit up and listen, "I've done me job and I've done it well. But things aren't changing. Nothing's getting better. I've given it a chance but without Bolly…" he shook his head, "me heart's not in it any more."

"Gene, you're _needed_ here," Simon told him urgently, "you know that. Look what happened when I took over for a few weeks, you barely had an office to come back to!"

"They'll find someone else," Gene told him, "always someone waiting in the wings for a promotion. Someone who doesn't '_do things wrong'_ like me. Someone Jimbo's not going to feed off. Maybe you'll even see the back of him if I bugger off."

Simon shook his head. A terrible sense of panic rose inside of him.

"You can't actually be serious," he shook his head in denial, "Gene, you've always said you have a job to do, and I know that's not finished yet."

"I'm not feeling it any more," Gene shook his head, "I'm turning into a robot."

"Great, that's all we need – RoboGene," said Simon but Gene wasn't impressed.

"I mean it," he said, "got a collar yesterday, praise coming out of me ears and I just didn't care."

Simon shook his head slowly and looked at Gene seriously.

"And you think you'll be happy going to the pub without Alex?" he asked.

Gene looked down.

"Got to be better than waiting around for something that's not going to happen," Gene told him.

Simon rubbed his forehead. This had come so much out of the blue, he didn't know what to say.

"_Please_ don't make any rash decisions," he began, "I think you'd really regret it."

"Been thinking about it for a while."

"Well not for long enough," said Simon, "if you're only mentioning it now then you can't have been that serious about it before. I don't think you'd be happy, Gene. Not upping and leaving like this. Your pride will never let you forget it for one."

"Aobut time he took a backseat," Gene mumbled.

Simon closed his eyes.

"And what about the stuff... what about all the stuff that's been happening?" he asked, "things going back and forth? I know that's not the norm. This is something different and weird, and I don't think you should walk away when your world is starting to go haywire. What if it's some kind of sign, hmm?"

"A sign I need me head tested," said Gene.

"No," Simon shook his head, "A sign Alex is trying to get back to you." Gene stared at him as though waiting for him to justify that sentence. "Trees, turkeys, desks… have you ever had this happen before? _Ever?"_

Gene shook his head.

"No, Simon," he sighed, "me life has never resembled the X-Files before."

"What if Alex is next?" Simon asked, "what if one minute it's turkeys travelling back and forth and the next she appears?"

"In your oven with an apple up 'er arse?" Gene asked sarcastically.

"You know full well what I mean," Simon started to feel annoyed with Gene's flippancy. He gave a sigh and shook his head. "Gene… trying to change your mind is like trying to juggle elephants. I'm not going to waste my breath arguing with you. But I'm not going to let you rush into something you'll probably regret," he took a deep breath. "Give it a couple of weeks and then see how you feel. Just... Just don't rush into it. Don't rush into anything. You have plenty of time to decide. Don't do it at haste." He looked him in the eye. "You sent _Alex_ off to the pub in haste, remember."

Finally those words seemed to change something in Gene's demeanour. He looked down. Simon had found the killer combination, the sentence that halted him in his tracks if just for a short while. He nodded slowly .

"I know," he repeated.

"And, Gene, I'm not casting aspersions here but I'm not sure you'd make it safely out one of those windows if you changed your mind too late," Simon told him. When Gene didn't respond Simon carried on. "Give it a couple more weeks, Gene. That's all I'm asking. And don't do anything rash. This is probably the biggest decision you'll ever make so think it over and over and over." He bit his lip. "Agreed?"

Gene looked at Simon. He knew that he meant well but this wasn't a sudden thing. This had been on his mind for some time. It was only now that he'd had the push to speak up. But sometimes it was easier to just agree with Simon than to let him continue arguing.

"Fine," he said flatly "no rash decisions."

"Good."

Simon still wasn't convinced Gene had taken his words on board but there was little else he could do to change his mind. He hoped he had at least bought some time for Gene to see that this world was still where he belonged – and that it still needed him as much as he needed it.


	59. Chapter 31, 2011: Good Evans

**Chapter 31: 2011**

Alex couldn't understand or quite believe how different she felt as she awoke on Friday morning compared to how she'd felt two days earlier. The day she'd gone with Kim to see her desk she'd been full of nervous anticipation. Today, she was just full of dread.

_Evan._

She closed her eyes and pulled the duvet around her shoulders to block out the chilly morning air. She knew that this was something she had to do. It was vital to settling her own demons. But the thought of facing him filled her with a cold sense of dread that started in the pit of her stomach and slowly rose to her throat where it threatened to emerge as a scream.

Evan had brought her up. Taken her in when her parents died. Kept her safe. Made sure she had everything she needed. He was a friend, a guardian and a constant. At least that's what she'd spent her whole life believing. Then a bullet in the head sent her back in time and she saw for herself that there was another side to Evan, a side that had let – directly or indirectly – to her childhood devastation. Photographs of Evan and her mother, all wrapped in in each other, their passion hitting the roof – the images stayed with her in her mind. the knowledge that Layton had used the truth about her parents' deaths to blackmail Evan and that, in the end, Evan's refusal to admit the truth had led to her shooting made her feel as though someone had wrapped their fingers around her heart and squeezed it until she had nothing left inside of her.

But the trauma hadn't ended there. A trip back to the real world had seen Evan trying to keep her away from anyone who might know the truth, threaten to have her sectioned, crumble into a pile of tears on the roof of the Falcon building and collaborate with Nailer to attempt to cause the death of a man. This wasn't the Evan she thought she knew.

Now she had one last chance to see him. To confront him. To find out once and for all why he did what he did. The thought of it terrified her and churned her up inside but she couldn't play down the importance of this meeting.

She put off getting up until the very last moment. When she heard voices from the kitchen she knew that she had to face the day. She dressed quickly, the cold morning biting at her skin, and brushed through her hair. She could see a difference in her expression, too. She didn't look strong and stoic the way she had when she'd faced Kim's desk. She looked like a lost little girl chasing a red balloon all over again.

Trying to make her expression more neutral, she left the safety of her rom and joined Kim and Robin in the kitchen. In her slightly anxious state she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh my goodness, you two look as bad as I _feel_."

Robin looked a little crestfallen.

"Hey, thanks a lot," he said indignantly, "I'm sure _you_ didn't look much better when you still had morning sickness and spent the early hours hunched over the toilet bowl!" he paused and chewed on his lip. "Did I say morning sickness? Food poisoning. I meant food poisoning." He knew he was slowly turning the colour of a tomato and turned his head away slightly. "Anyway…"

Alex looked at Kim. Her face looked pale and drawn.

"What about you?" she asked quietly, "more nightmares?"

"Didn't sleep well," Kim said quietly.

Robin looked at Alex seriously.

"The… the Evan thing," he said, "it's…"

Kim took over as he seemed to lose his trail of thought.

"Ma'am, we were called as witnesses at his trial," she explained, "for the prosecution." She hung her head a little. "It wasn't pleasant."

Alex sank into a chair. She supposed the Evan visit was going to dredge up ghosts for all of them.

"No," she said quietly, "I suppose it wasn't."

"Evan's defence team tore us to shreds. They set out to make us both look like emotional wrecks," Robin said quietly, "trying to discredit us. We haven't seen Evan since the sentencing."

"You don't have to come with me," Alex told them seriously, "I can take a taxi."

"No, we'll be there," Kim said quietly, "just… just ignore the fact that we look like shit. Memories of Evan do not a peaceful night make."

Alex frowned a little.

"Why are neither of you at work anyway?" she asked.

"We both have today off in lieu of the bank holiday on Monday," Robin explained.

Alex nodded.

"Ahh, I see." She'd been fearing more sickies. She was about to start nagging at the pair of them to eat breakfast but realised she didn't want to sound like a hypocrite. Her stomach was churning so horribly that the last thing on her mind was trying to start the day in the right way. She realised that she had missed out on so much between heading back to 1995 and awakening again; things that had helped to seal Robin and Kim's friendship and, later, their relationship so firmly. There was a part of her that wanted to ask more about Evan and the trial but she had a strong feeling she was better off not knowing. She slowly stood up and walked to the door "Is it alright if I have a shower before we go?"

"Be my guest," Robin's smile was weak and uneasy. It didn't exactly serve to settle Alex's nerves. The sooner the day was over, the better all round.

~xXx~

The drive to prison was slow and silent. Between the rush hour traffic and Kim's insistence at taking a slow pace so as not to disturb Robin's temperamental stomach it seemed to take forever to get there. Alex was fairly glad of the journey. It gave her time to focus and prepare. She still wasn't sure what she was going to say to him when she came face to face with him but she felt as though she'd been able to focus her mind at least.

When they pulled to a halt in the car park she looked at them and said,

"You don't need to come in with me. I can find my way."

"I think one of us should come with you," Kim began quietly but Alex shook her head.

"I think you two need to stay here together," she said, "you look like you need each other far more than I need a chaperone this morning." she opened the passenger door and stepped out. "I'm going to be fine," she said, finally believing that. Now she had arrived she was starting to find the strength that had been absent all morning.

"Are you sure?" Kim seemed a little doubtful. Alex gave her a determined smile.

"I'm sure," she said. She glanced at the prison then back to the car. "I'll be back soon," she said, then closed the door before anyone could try to change her mind and follow her. She had the strength to face Evan. She knew that now.

Watching her leave, Kim felt apprehensive and wished that she'd insisted on going with her.

"Do you think she'll really be OK?" she asked.

"I'm more worried about _you_," said Robin. He reached forward to the driver's seat in front of him and grabbed for her hand. "Come back here with me."

"What?"

Robin began to gently pull her towards him.

"Climb into the back," he said.

"Can't I just, you know," she tilted her head sideways, _"use the doors?"_

"Where's the adventure in that?" Robin pulled a face and continued tugging Kim towards him until she finally agreed to clamber into the back. Robin helped her through and plopped her into place beside him.

"I almost got a gear stick in a very uncomfortable place," Kim complained.

Robin ignored her comment.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"Me? I'm fine," Kim told him but knew that he could see through that."

"I'm worried about you," he said quietly.

"I'll be fine when we're miles away from _HMP Beardland," _Kim told him. The memory of Evan's trial was bringing back many dark memories best left buried. She wanted to make a sarcastic comment about the situation, something to take the edge off of the tension, but somehow she just didn't have the strength.

As it turned out, Robin's arms were all she needed.

~xXx~

Alex barely recognised him as she sat down opposite Evan's strangely clean-shaven face. His eyes looked dark and dull, his hair now bore more than a trace of grey throughout it and more wrinkles had gathered where his current status had taken its toll. But it was the lack of beard that struck her first. Nervous and shocked, Alex couldn't seem to filter her speech as she blurted,

"What happened to your beard?"

Evan's eyes fell to her stomach

"What happened to your waistline?" he asked in a tone that left Alex unsure whether he was sore about her comment or really didn't know about her pregnancy. She felt her cheeks burning and tried to pull her jacket across her bump. If Evan wanted to know about her welfare he would have to earn that right.

"Seriously," she said, looking at him for answers, "what happened? Why did you -?"

Evan's defences rose.

"It's a part of my sentence," he said, "I was charged with having a really crappy beard and they found me guilty. Now I have a large ex-trucker called Geoff shaving me every day and I will never be taken seriously as a beard model again."

Alex nodded slowly. She wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Oh," she said.

Evan looked at her seriously and his eyes seemed to fill up a little. Alex hoped and prayed that the waterworks were not about to begin. She couldn't face the thought of that.

"When they said you'd requested a visit I thought someone was playing a joke," he said, his voice wavering slightly. Alex swallowed, determined not to let her nerves get in the way of finding out what she needed to know.

"No, no joke," she said a little stiffly. She was determined not to show emotion. She needed answers before she could even decide which way her emotions were _heading_ – anger or tears. "How have you been?"

The question sounded so flippant that it made Evan give a slightly annoyed laugh.

"How have I _been?"_ he repeated, "I lost all my money, both my careers, both my goddaughters and my freedom."

Alex took a deep breath.

"I notice you listed money and work before myself and Molly," she said.

Evan felt his breath escape as a tearful sigh.

"You _know_ that's not what I meant," he said, his whole demeanour changing. His defences were down and a very desperate man stared back at her. "Alex, I've sent every day regretting my actions. I've spent every day desperately hoping for news on your condition, hoping and praying that you'd wake up and would one day be sitting right there, where you are right now, talking to me again. Every day I wish that Molly would answer my calls or reply to my letters. She won't visit me, she won't talk to me, she won't acknowledge that I exist."

"I can't blame her," Alex said honestly and watched his face crumble more.

"Are you here to punish me?" he asked quietly, "because I do enough of that to myself every day."

Alex shook her head slowly.

"No," she said, "I'm not here to punish you." she swallowed. "I'm here for answers." She watched him as he hung his head and shook it slowly. "You owe me that much, Evan."

"There's nothing I can say that will justify what I've done," he said quietly.

"I still need to know your side of the story," Alex told him. She paused as she watched him wringing his hands nervously. "I need to know about you and my mother."

"What can I say that's going to make any difference?" Evan gave a despairing shrug, "what can I say that's going to take away that look from your eyes?"

"What look?"

"The look as though I broke your heart."

Alex looked down. Suddenly she wasn't sure that this had been a good idea. She took several deep breaths and tried to keep herself as calm as possible.

"You and my mother had a-an affair," she said quietly, "how… how could you do that? To me? To my father? To a _family?"_

Evan's eyes cast downward.

"Because I was young," he said, "foolish. I made mistakes. When you work closely with someone you can find yourself attracted to them, even when everything is telling you it's a bad idea, and sometimes you just can't find the strength to do the right thing. The pressures of the job…" he chanced a glance in her direction and saw Alex's expression growing ever darker. He shook his head. "No. You're right. There is no excuse, Alex. There's no excuse for what I did. But I spent the rest of my life trying to make it up to you… taking you in… looking after you as though you were my own daughter… I never had a family of my own because I owed it to you to concentrate on making amends. I sacrificed my own life to bring you up."

"Don't you dare try turning this around on me," Alex hissed.

"I wasn't!" Evan protested but he knew inside that was a lie. He drew back a little and stared her in the eye. "Alex," he whispered. The expression on her face was something he'd never seen before. "I… feel like I don't even know you any more."

Alex wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond to that.

"What?"

"Your coma. It's changed you."

Alex shook her head. Fifteen years of life in a different _world_ had changed her.

"And then Layton," she said, her voice holding steady. She saw him twitch visibly. "You thought you'd laid your dirty little secret to rest for good until he came along." She took a deep breath. "And instead of telling me the truth you let me take a bullet to the head."

"I didn't!" Evan cried, "I did no such thing. Layton blackmailed me, and I didn't have the money he was asking, so –"

"So that's the point at which you realise that you need to be a man for once in your goddamn life and tell the _truth,"_ Alex cried. She froze and glanced around, worrying that the prison wardens were about to intervene but thankfully they left her be. She tried to calm herself a little and kept her voice lower as she hissed, "you should have called the police. You should have admitted the truth. You knew Layton was unhinged."

"But I didn't know he was capable of murder!"

"He created the bomb that killed mum and dad!" Alex hissed, "He's had more drugs than you've had photographs taken of your beard. He was a desperate man –"

"So I thought there was no chance he would shoot you," Evan protested, "shooting you took away his bargaining chip!"

"And then years later he came back for more!" Alex was disturbed to find her eyes starting to fill with tears. She needed to keep a handle on her emotions. She wasn't going to let Evan see how deeply affected by the meeting she was. She breathed in slowly and deeply before she continued. "When I woke up you treated me like an idiot."

"Alex, I didn't –"

"You banned my friends from visiting me…"

"With good reason!"

"And then threatened to have me _sectioned!"_

"You were talking nonsense!" Evan protested, "going on about someone no one knew. Jones or John or –"

"Gene," Alex closed her eyes. She looked down and choked back tears that were still threatening to come forth. Calming herself a little, she took a deep breath and continued. "You dressed it up as concern for me but it was nothing more than trying to keep me away from the truth. You didn't want me to find out about you… my mother… the car…" she didn't tell Evan that she'd already found out the truth many years before. That was a can of worms she wasn't going to even think about opening. "And then when you knew you couldn't hide it any longer you went to Nick _Nailer _for help." She could still barely believe that part. "Nick _Nailer?"_

Evan swallowed.

"I was desperate, Alex," he whispered, "I could see you slipping away from me. You and Molly… you are my family."

Alex shook her head.

"My family _died_ because of you," she whispered, "and even now you still can't take responsibility." Silence fell. She hoped furiously that he would fill the gap with the words she longed to hear; for him to finally take responsibility, to admit that his actions had sent her father over the edge, to tell her that he truly regretted keeping the truth from her for all those years and that he had been a coward and a liar. All she wanted was for him to do that one little thing. But he couldn't. He wasn't man enough, and he never would be either. She shook her head slowly and leaned back a little in her chair. She knew now that she was never going to get from him the one thing that she desperately wanted. She had feared this would happen but had given him the benefit of the doubt. Slowly she nodded and took a deep breath. "So," she began quietly, "how are you coping with prison?"

Evan's eyes looked haunted.

"It's not a nice place for a lawyer," he said, "or a beard model with no beard." He fell silent and his eyes moved towards Alex's stomach again. "You, uh," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "Alex? When… how did this happen?"

Alex looked down. Her hands rose to her bump protectively. She wasn't about to launch into the false explanation but didn't have an alternative to offer so she simply said,

"She's due at the beginning of May, Evan."

"She?" Evan repeated.

Alex nodded.

"Another little girl." She tried not to smile. She didn't want Evan to think that the smile was directed at him. Not when she still felt so angry with him for his lack of responsibility. "I don't want to get into the details right now, Evan. Let's just leave it as saying that the baby and I are both doing well."

Evan looked at her anxiously. He wanted to query her further but had a feeling she was going to block any questions he aimed at her, so he tried a different avenue.

"How's Molly?" he asked quietly.

Alex took a deep breath.

"Doing as well as can be expected," she said, "considering what she's been through."

Evan looked a little sheepish.

"And… your friends," he began, "Robin… and, _Kim?"_

Alex folded her arms as she looked him in the eye.

"They're fine," she said, "or they were until they had to bring me here today and ended up traumatising themselves with memories of your trial."

Evan looked down.

"I'm sorry they had to go through that," he said quietly.

Alex stared at Evan. He was a shadow of the sophisticated, confident man she'd known all her life, and yet there was something stopping him from admitting his faults. It saddened her deeply inside but at least she had some answers, maybe not the ones she was looking for but she knew for certain that Evan's attitude was never going to change. It killed her inside to think that she'd had him wrong all those years. But she had faced him and asked the questions she had wanted to for so long.

She slowly got to her feet and Evan looked alarmed.

"You're going?" he asked.

Alex nodded sombrely.

"I don't think," she whispered, "we have much more to say to one another. Do you?"

Evan looked down. As much as his heart was breaking to admit it, she was right.

"Will you come back?" he asked quietly, "can we try to talk again? Straighten some things out?"

Alex hesitated, but then slowly shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. She watched Evan's face crumble before her. "I think we need to say goodbye."

"But you're all I've _got,"_ Evan cried.

Alex shook her head.

"As Molly grows up she will learn to forgive you," she said quietly, "and one day I am sure you will reconcile." She took a step back. "Thank you, Evan."

Evan stared at her.

"For?" he asked.

Alex closed her eyes momentarily.

"For taking me in." she said quietly, "bringing me up. Please don't mistake my words for taking that for granted because I never will." She shook her head. "I only wish… that you hadn't used that as a substitute for honestly." She turned away and began to walk slowly from the visiting room, led by the warden. She could feel Evan's eyes upon her but he didn't try to call her back. He knew that there was nothing he could say to change things – because the one thing Alex wanted to hear was the one thing he wasn't man enough to say.

That day Evan lost his goddaughter all over again, but Alex finally said goodbye to a heavy weight hanging over her heart.

~xXx~

As Alex walked slowly through the car park and saw Kim and Robin huddled in the back of the car she immediately feared the worst and suspected some highly inappropriate prison car park sexual shenanigans were in progress but they seemed fairly still and quiet. As she approached the car she saw their eyes were closed as cuddled together in the back seat, fast asleep.

"That's… fairly sweet," she commented to herself, "and also, makes me want to reach for the sick bucket."

She tapped hard on the window and they immediately awoke, looking shocked and confused for a few moments until Kim came to enough to work out what was going on. She unsteadily clambered back into the front seat and unlocked the doors for Alex to get back inside.

"Sorry, Ma'am," she said, her cheeks turning pink, "I… we… it was all warm in the back and –"

"It's not a problem," Alex promised her, a slight smile betraying her amusement. She took her seat in the front and carefully pulled the seatbelt around her.

"Um, how was he?" asked Robin, "and how did things go?"

Alex's tiny smile faded in an instant.

"I've said my goodbyes," she said quietly, "we'll leave it at that."

Kim glanced at her as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes and her head.

"Are you sure?" she asked, "if you want to talk later –"

"Then I'll know where to find you," Alex nodded with a tiny smile. She exhaled loudly and leaned back. "I'm fine, honestly. I just…" she closed her eyes. "Something tells me Evan will never admit to _himself_ what he's done, and if he can't do that…" she shook her head. "Sometimes you can know somebody all your life and never _really_ know who they are." The car fell silent with Alex's words. No one really knew what to say or do until finally Kim turned the key in the ignition and began the journey home.

~xXx~

"Alex was right, you know."

Robin looked at Kim in the dim rom, the duvet partially obscuring her face. He drew it back gently and asked,

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes you can know someone all your life and never really know who they are," Kim said quietly.

Robin looked at her a little anxiously. She'd been quiet all day and seemed deep in thought for much of the time. He'd thought it was Evan-related but now he wondered what else was behind it.

"Who do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Kim moved a little towards him. It was late in the evening but they'd been in bed for a while. With all that had been happening they both needed a little comfort and a feeling of security so they'd returned to their usual place of safety – _bed._

"I never told you why ninety five was my year," she said quietly, "did I?"

Robin shook his head slowly.

"I know it was something to do with your sister, but that's all," he said.

Kim bit her lip. Her eyes seemed very nervous suddenly.

"I've never told anyone," she whispered, "Not Alex, not Simon, certainly not Linda."

"You don't have to tell me if it's too hard," Robin promised, his fingers gently brushing her shoulder.

"I want to," she whispered, "I want you to know everything, Rob. No secrets."

Robin could see she was serious. He nodded slowly.

"Go on," he said quietly.

Kim felt her heart starting to speed up and her stomach turning. She'd spent much of the last 8 years blocking out her reasons for going back to '95 and trying to switch her mind to focusing on them again instead felt strange and difficult. She drew in her breath and her courage too.

"I was seventeen," she said quietly, "in ninety five, the first time around. I was the middle sister. There were three of us. I suppose we were a fairly normal family. Didn't really go in for talking and sharing though." She shook her head slowly. "My older sister, Julia… one day she just disappeared. The police… they looked into all avenues. It was never established if she'd run away or if someone had taken her. I spent years trying to find out what happened to her, and I guess that was one of the reasons I wanted to get into the force in the first place." She swallowed as bile rose in her throat. "And then, one night, I was chasing suspects and one of them gave me the chance to find out what happened to her for myself. "

"In Gene's world," Robin finished for her. She nodded.

"Stabbed in the guts. Woke up in the middle of an illegal rave. Quick intro to Malcolm's purple trousers, several sick bags later…" she closed her eyes. She didn't even know where to begin. "Shit, Rob. This is so hard."

"You really don't have to finish telling me now, Kim," he said seriously, "if you want to take a break –"

Kim shook her head.

"No, I need to do this," she said quickly. She tried to take a deep, calming breath. "My sister," she began, "was my brother."

She stared at Robin, waiting for his reaction. He stared back. He didn't really know what to say to that. He didn't really understand what she meant.

"I… I don't get it," he said quietly.

Kim looked down.

"My sister spent her life in the wrong body," she said quietly, "and ran away to make the change from Julia to Julian." She paused. "He couldn't be honest with us because of the way my family were. And I _know_ that… I know that only too well, the reaction I got when I came out…" she shook her head. "He didn't stand a chance."

Robin's heart was breaking for Kim as he saw her expression grow more upset with every word.

"I'm so sorry, Kim," he said quietly.

"At least… at least I got to meet… the real him," she said quietly, "just for a short time. I… I tried to help." She closed her eyes. "Backfired spectacularly."

"What happened?"

"I begged him to try giving our family a chance," she whispered, "and he-he did. The day he disappeared he went to tell them. As Julian." She shook her head. "My mother outright denied him. She spent years lying to us, claiming to have no idea what happened to Julia." There were tears now which Kim angrily wiped away. She hated crying, it didn't come naturally to her but her emotions were suddenly in overdrive. "My mother let us all believe that Julia had been abducted or killed, or that she'd just run away for no good reason. He knew, Rob… He knew exactly what she would do. Because that's what my family were best at. Denying anything is happening and blanking out the truth." She swallowed hard, her voice falling to a whisper, "and that's why I haven't seen them for almost seven years."

"Shit , Kim, I'm so, so sorry," Robin breathed.

"After I woke from my coma there was no way things could go back to normal," she whispered, "between the shock of being back in the real world and knowing the truth about Julian I lost the ability to relate to anyone. And I had such anger…. Felt so angry towards my mother for her part in what happened."

Robin could do little but hold her.

"Did you ever try to find him?" he asked quietly.

"Julian?" Robin nodded, "I tried for a time but I didn't know where to begin. I didn't even know whether he'd changed his surname to something else to stay hidden. I didn't know who I was looking for or where to look. All I knew was that…" she shook her head slowly, "sometimes it's just best not to know the truth."

Robin wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He understood how much it had taken to tell him the truth; to speak of it to anyone. The reasons someone found themselves back in Gene's world were never easy and often brought more pain to the fore.

"If you ever want someone to help you find him," he said quietly, "you only have to ask and I'll help in any way that I can."

Kim gave a tiny smile as she found herself drawn closer towards him until her head nestled beneath his chin.

"Thank you," she whispered.

It had been a day of strange truths and discoveries. The following day would be new year's eve and 2011 would soon be over. It felt like a time for endings and new beginnings all round. In a way that was a daunting prospect but at least they both knew they would be facing it together.

~xXx~

Alex crossed a line through 30th December on her list and stepped back. The number of struck-through days was growing and soon would over take the days left until Manchester. She took a deep breath as she laid down her pen and nodded to herself.

One more ghost had been laid to rest.

"Another day closer, Gene," she whispered, "just hold on a little longer. I'll be home soon. I promise you that."


	60. Chapter 31, 1996: Stupid Questions

**Chapter 31: 1996**

"Where's the fucking post?"

Victoria recognised that heated tone in Keats's voice. She knew that was the signal to suddenly get very busy over in another part of the building. In truth, for the last few weeks life had been somewhat easier than usual for her because, for one reason or another, Keats had been spending a lot of time hidden away in the basement, poring over various files and papers for some pet project that he'd been spending all his energy on. She didn't know what he was doing and quite frankly she couldn't have given two short shits what it was either. As long as it kept him out of her way that was all that mattered really.

But hearing that tone was enough to make her want to hide across the other side of London for a while. She knew that tone only too well. It would usually be followed up by the direct blame for some occurrence that she had no connection with in the slightest. On this occasion she had a feeling she was about to be blamed for the late arrival of the post.

"It hasn't arrived yet, sir," she said as calmly as she could but the anger in Keats's eyes showed that he hadn't even started yet.

"I'm waiting for something," he said crossly.

"The posts probably still running behind from Christmas," Victoria began but a glare from Keats sent her into silence. She decided it was probably better to leave well enough alone and let him rant to himself until he ran out of energy like the batteries in a new toy at Christmas running down from overuse.

"Thank you for your insights, postmaster general," he sneered, "when I want the opinion of some snotty-nosed dame done up as a DI then I'll ask for it. Until then why don't you take your pout and shove it somewhere I don't have to see it?"

Victoria swallowed down a torrent of abuse that had been building up for so many months. One day she would release it all and there would be no taking it back – nor any telling how he would respond or retaliate but until then she would have to do her best to keep her head down and avoid his acid tongue as much as she could. She had succeeded for some time. She could carry on until she found a way to escape whatever cycle of misery she was trapped in by Keats and Fenchurch West.

For his part Keats had bigger fish to fry that day. Awaiting more items from Manchester, he had another phase of his plan to put into action but until they arrived he stood no chance. He'd waited long enough for Simon to unravel the truth and he was growing impatient. He wanted to watch both Simon and Gene self-destruct. He wanted to see them fall apart – or tear each other to shreds. He wanted to sit back with a bucket of popcorn and watch them disintegrate before his eyes. But none of that was going to happen if the fucking post didn't arrive soon.

He kicked a desk in anger and retreated back to his office where he slammed the door, closed the blinds and paced. He was fast running out of patience. Usually he was all for playing the long game but it was time to see Simon's life fall apart. He'd waited long enough. It was time for his reward.

~xXx~

Simon eyed Gene warily as he passed by CID. Ever since their conversation the previous morning he'd been on high alert. The fact that Gene had been thinking so seriously about giving everything up and going to the pub had come as a complete revelation to him and he felt like a terrible friend. He'd thought Gene was doing better, not planning to jack in his life's work and retire to the great beer mat in the sky.

He was aware that Gene had spotted him lurking outside of the door and tried to duck out of sight but it was too late.

"I hope you're not trying to sharpen yer brilliant spying skills, Shoebury," he commented, one eyebrow rising. Simon hesitated and cursed silently. He turned back round and shook his head.

"Just… just checking what you wanted from the latte run," he lied, double cursing himself for the fact that he had now committed himself to collecting that morning's beverages.

Gene stared at him as though he was talking Dutch.

"_Lattes,"_ he said, "what do you think? Caviar-accino?"

Simon quickly hurried away before he could get any further comebacks from Gene. At least he seemed in better spirits. That was more like the Gene he knew. But how long for? That was another matter. He vowed to keep a closer eye on Gene from then on. Maybe some New Year festivities could convince him to stay? It was a longshot but anything was worth a go.

Maybe he'd even try to apprehend a Dipsy. If anything was going to convince Gene to stay surely it would be the acquisition of the collectable toy he'd failed to procure for Christmas.

~xXx~

By some miracle there were no new reports of homicidal toasting appliances that day. Simon began to wonder if the bread-heating community had agreed a truce with their toast-consuming human counterparts. He didn't was to count his chickens before they hatched though – or his crumpets before they toasted – so decided to just appreciate the quieter day and the fact that he was able to leave work on time for the first time since Christmas.

He beat Gene home by about ten minutes which was long enough to get changed into his t-shirt. If Gene wasn't going to let him say thank you then wearing it was the next best way to show his appreciation. To his horror he found he was freezing cold though and quickly got his jumper on standby ready to don once the message sank in.

Simon heard the sound of an engine revving then stopping outside and guessed that Gene was back. He shook his head as he sat down on the couch. He lived so close to the station that it was genuinely quicker to walk than to drive because the getting in and out of the car took longer than the process of just strolling down the road.

"Evening, Gene," he said as the door opened.

Gene seemed genuinely surprised to see him.

"You're not telling me the toasters have taken a day off, Shoebury?"

"Looks that way," said Simon. He sat up a little straighter and asked, "Gene, what are you doing for the new year?"

"I thought I might arrest it," said Gene, abandoning his shoes in the middle of the room where Simon was sure to trip over them later, "Charge it with impersonating the old one. Leave it to spend a night or two rotting in the cells."

"Your stand-up comedy act is coming on in leaps and bounds," Simon rolled his eyes, "I mean, are you going to Bask or something?"

"Not really me favourite place any more," said Gene.

"Or anywhere?" Simon asked.

"Simon, I'm not in the mood for a big celebratory piss up," Gene told him.

"I don't think it's going to do you any good sitting around here, moping," Simon told him.

"Who's moping? I've got a fine bottle of scotch and Angus bloody Deyton on the end of the year show. Can there be a better way to end the year?"

"I think you should at least try to go out for a bit," Simon told him.

Gene looked at him suspiciously.

"Why?" he demanded, "need the place to yerself for an all-night geek party? Worried I'll catch you in yer Arnold Rimmer pyjamas?"

"I don't _have_ Arnold Rimmer pyjamas!" Simon cried indignantly, neglecting to mention that if there were such a think he would surely have bought a pair by now. He shook his head. "No, I'm just worried about you. After what you were saying yesterday –"

"You already gave me the hard sell on staying and I said I'd give it one more try in the soft South," Gene told him, "can't do more than that. But karaoke's off the menu."

Simon sighed but didn't have enough energy to argue with Gene about it. If he'd made up his mind then he didn't think there was much hope of changing it. Feeling like an overgrown babysitter, Simon realised that he'd have to abandon his own plans to make sure that Gene survived the new year intact without wandering off to the Railway Arms.

_Great,_ he thought to himself, _looks like a night with Mister Deyton for me too._

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Just a short little filler chapter before the new year stupidity as 2011 and 1996 give way to 2012 and 1997 respectively. A quick head's up, I've got a hospital appointment from hell coming up tomorrow and I wanted to warn you I might not be able to write for a few days. Or, I might be so stressed out that I could just end up writing a bunch to get my mind on other things, who knows. So just a warning it could go either way.**_

_**And also, I really fucking miss the End of the Year show :( Wah!**_


	61. Chapter 32, 2011: Bogged Down

_**A/N: I wrote this chapter last night and edited most of it this morning before my appt but I'm just getting to post it now. I don't think I'm going to be able to type much for a few days but I'll update when I can. I swear the only complication I *don't* have with this pregnancy is skipping 16 years into the future. However, she's a definite tough cookie, we'll get there. Anyway, here's the next chapter – mostly more light-hearted new year fluff than anything, Never fear, next chapter will be plenty more angsty!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 32: 2011**

"I certainly never thought I would be seeing in two thousand and twelve. "

Alex had to laugh to herself as she made the observation. It seemed ridiculous. All that time ago when she had woken up in 1981 she had thought of it as going back to the past. After spending so long comatose and missing out on several years it felt a bit like time travelling the future. It was a very strange concept indeed.

New year's eve had arrived and as Alex looked at the list of days on the flip chart she found herself staring at her final week. In one week's time she would be on the way to Manchester and nothing was going to stand in her way. She was edging closer to organising her own affairs and closing down the unfinished business that she needed to wrap up to head back to Gene, feeling content in her own right. She had already been through several major steps – seeing the desk, confronting Evan, planning out the way there. She knew there were still so many things she needed to wrap up but she would get there. She'd take each day as it came.

~xXx~

Kim's head felt heavy as she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying to wake up a little faster. She was exhausted; the last few days had truly taken a toll on her and after her frank talk with Robin from the night before she'd found herself emotionally drained. She was so glad that they not only had the day off but didn't have any plans beyond spending the day together. As she slowly cleared the sleep from her eyes she felt a little shocked to find Robin staring at her, a strange smile upon his face.

"Good morning," he said.

She drew back a little, frowning curiously.

"Morning," she repeated. She tried to work out what the little smile on his lips was for. "What's the matter, Rob?" she had a momentary panic. "Oh, _no,_ you've just discovered an extra-large tin of beans in the cupboard or something, haven't you?"

Robin shook his head, trying to ignore the fact that now she'd mentioned beans he'd started craving them with every bone in his body.

"No, nothing to do with beans," he assured her. He propped himself up on his elbow and moved slightly closer. "You realise something?"

"What?"

Robin bit his lip.

"It's a year ago tonight you turned up on the doorstep with the letter for me," he said quietly.

Kim hadn't even realised that. With everything that had been going on it had slipped her mind.

"Shit, of course," she said quietly. A smile spread across her face as she thought back to it and she gave a slightly anxious laugh. "Shit, I was so scared," she admitted.

"Scared?" Robin repeated, "of what?"

Kim felt a little silly to think about it now.

"Everything, she said, "meeting you. Confronting the past. Finally handing over the letter that I'd been holding onto for eight years." Her smile looked a little wobbly. "It was a big thing for me Rob. I spent so long running away from my old life. There'd been a part of me that was scared you didn't even exist and the whole thing had been a dream." She propped herself up a little. "After I brought you the letter I never expected to see you again."

"Unless I needed someone to tattoo my police dogs" Robin smiled. Neither could resist laughing.

"I can't believe that was a whole year ago," Kim said quietly.

"It's gone so fast," robin sighed, remembering how different his life was a year ago that day. The previous new year's eve, he was all ready to take his own life.

Now, he couldn't think of anything more precious than the gift of living.

~xXx~

"_Robin!"_ Kim knocked sharply on the door.

"_What?" _

Kim leaned against the wall and folded her arms.

"Other people enjoy the fine art of _going to the toilet_ too, you know," she said.

"_Just a minute."_

"No, you've spent the whole morning pissing!" Kim pointed out delicately, "there are _some_ people out here who would like a turn now."

The toilet flushed and a few moments later a red-faced Robin opened the door. He looked embarrassed and awkward and could barely look Kim in the eye.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Kim's brow furrowed with worry.

"You're getting worse, Rob," she hissed, "the more time goes by the more you…" she shook her head. It sounded stupid.

"What?"

She gave a sigh.

"It's like you act… _more pregnant_," Kim told him.

Robin's cheeks burned so hard that they truly started to sting with heat.

"I said I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I don't want you to be sorry, I want you to see a doctor," Kim told him.

"We agreed after Manchester."

"Bollocks to Manchester, I'm making you an appointment as soon as the new year's over with," Kim said, hopping from one leg to the other.

"There's no need to do a stupid dance about it!" Robin cried, highly offended.

"I'm _not,_ I've been waiting out here needing a wee for god knows how long!" Kim told him, finally letting the urgency of her bladder take over from her concern for Robin. She pushed past him and finally shut the door. Robin looked down as he skulked away. He felt like he was a whisker away from needing antenatal classes.

"What on earth is this commotion about?" Alex looked somewhat annoyed as she emerged from her room, phone in hand.

"Sorry," Robin bit his lip nervously, "slight battle for the bathroom, that's all."

Alex almost entered the argument, informing him that if _anyone_ should have the right to demand access to the toilet then it should be her but she decided not to embarrass him any further. She sighed and changed the subject.

"Robin, I've got a favour to ask you."

"Des it involve toilets?" Robin frowned.

"No." she paused. "I had a text from Molly wishing me a happy new year." She took a deep breath. "Would it be alright if I invited her around to see in the new year with me?" she hesitated, the words sticking in her throat before she said quietly, "It's the last chance that I'll ever have."

Her words brought a terrible sadness over Robin. Sometimes it was so easy to focus on the positive reasons Alex was trying to get home that he forgot what she would be leaving behind. He nodded with a slightly wobbly smile. "

"Of course, Alex," he said quietly, "that's no problem."

Alex gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you," she said and set off to make a call.

~xXx~

"New year's eve… it always feels like such a weird day," Kim commented as she poked half-heartedly at her soup with a spoon.

"What do you mean?" Alex asked, occasionally finding Kim's thoughts a little confusing.

"Well," she sighed, "suddenly you've got one day to say goodbye to a whole year and it isn't even a bank holiday. It feels like you're supposed to make a big deal of it and yet half the time you don't manage to. And you've got to put up with the whole boring normal day before you get to the fun part with the clock and the champagne and stuff. " she shrugged. And it just feels… _weird."_

"You should try greeting a new year when you've spent the last twelve months skipping back and forth between decades," Alex pointed out, "then you'll _really_ feel 'weird'."

Kim laid down her spoon and pushed her half-finished bowl of soup away half-heartedly. She couldn't seem to work up an appetite. She looked at Alex and asked her seriously,

"Ma'am? Are you OK? After yesterday?"

Alex breathed in deeply through her nose and let her breath out as a sigh.

"I am, Kim," she nodded, "and I'm glad that I did it. I'm glad that I faced him." She found herself fiddling with hoer spoon as a distraction while she spoke. "I think if I hadn't there would always have been questions on my mind; things that I would have wanted an answer to and never found." There was a part of her that worried about Evan. Seeing him a shadow of the man who'd brought her up; beardless, greying, drawn and anxious, she knew that he wasn't the kind of person who could adapt to prison life and his time would be difficult. But at the same time, now that she had seen him she could at least know that he wasn't totally falling apart. She glanced back at Kim. "He told me he was sorry for everything you and Robin had to go through with the trial."

Kim looked down. She definitely had no appetite now.

"Bit late for that," she said quietly.

"Was it realty that difficult?" Alex asked quietly.

Kim couldn't face looking Alex in the eye.

"Half his defence was built on trying to make out that me and Rob were obsessed with saving you from being sectioned because we'd all been in comas, like we were trying to be coma buddies or something. They dredged up all the crap I went through after I first woke up. Changing my job and name, taking tranquilisers, other stuff," she shook her head, "like I needed someone to remind me about those horrible years." her cheeks turned red. "And then I threw up over the stand and half the jury."

"They didn't have his beard modelling photographs in the courtroom, did they?" Alex asked worriedly.

Kim shook her head.

"No, thank god," she said. She sighed and seemed to slide down in her chair as though she wanted to escape from view. "Morning sickness. I miscarried the next day."

Alex closed her eyes and wished that she could unlearn some of the things she'd found out since she woke up two months earlier. It felt as though everyone she cared about in the real world had been through a ton of trauma and she felt a little helpless to know what to say.

"God, I'm sorry," she shook her head slowly, "it seems like everything you've done this year has caused you pain."

"Not quite everything," Kim said, an emotional smile upon her lips. She sat up a little straighter. "And anyway, whatever happens the other side of midnight has to be better than the year that's gone before it. It's going to be a better year."

Alex really hoped that she was right. Kim and Robin had been through enough in the time they been together. She looked at the empty space at the table.

"Where _is_ Robin?" she asked.

Kim rolled her eyes a little.

"Where d'you think? On the bog." She shook her head. "I should never have let him have soup."

Alex watched her get to her feet and tip her uneaten lunch down the sink. Not for the first time she started to worry about the pair of them and how her own situation was affecting them. She couldn't help but worry about what would happen to them when she made it home. She still had no idea how she would make that passage back to 1996 but she hoped that here would be no negative implications for them. She knew that her last spell of time in the real world had been the catalyst for huge changes in both their lives which in the end were largely positive but couldn't help worrying about how they would fare when she found her way home.

~xXx~

As the day passed and evening drew near Alex began to feel increasingly nervous. She hadn't seen Molly since the uncomfortable Christmas day lunch and the closer she got to the end of her schedule the more strongly she realised just what she was giving up by leaving Molly behind. She knew for certain that she needed to go home. She knew who needed her more. But knowing that she was going to have to say goodbye to her own flesh and blood ripped her heart to pieces.

When the buzzer went a little after half past eight she felt a jolt in her heart of excitement and nervousness.

"That's her," she said a little unnecessarily as she made her way to the intercom.

"We'll leave you ladies to it," Kim smiled, getting up from the kitchen table with Robin.

"You don't have to hide away all night," said Alex.

"It's alright," said Robin, "you two deserve to spend some quality time alone together."

"That's very kind of you both," Alex said as she reached for the intercom, "and I am sure it has nothing to do with wanting to get your end away to see in the new year."

Robin and Kim's faces fell like a couple of kids who'd just been caught stealing cookies from the jar. They turned, mumbled some new year's wishes and slipped with red faces through to their bedroom while Alex let Molly in.

She felt so nervous. She still found it hard to relate to her. She'd missed out on such a chunk of her life, and some of her most important years. She was becoming a young woman when Alex had left behind a child. Sometimes she didn't know how she was supposed to speak to her. What was she supposed to say? What were the appropriate topics of conversation for a teenager in her last year of secondary school? And she'd missed out on three and a half years of popular culture – alright, so parents weren't supposed to 'get' the things their teenagers were into but at least they all had a vague chance of at least knowing about their _existence_. Alex didn't know any of the music, TV programmes or movies that Molly had been into over the last few years. She felt like regurgitating Sam Tyler's 'on a different planet' comment in reverse.

She didn't have time to worry about all of that now though as there was a knock on the door and she opened it to see a dressed up, grown up and smiling Molly standing outside.

"Happy new year, mum," she said.

Alex bit on her lip as she smiled. She really hoped that it was going to be.

~xXx~

"Please? Just one glass."

Despite narrowing her eyes, looking as grumpy and authoritative as possible and tutting loudly Alex didn't have the heart to say no to Molly.

"Alright," she said, "you may have _one_ glass of champagne, as long as that's alright with Kim and Robin because it's their drink."

"Thank you," Molly couldn't resist grinning.

"But I mean it," Alex told her sternly, "one glass. And don't even think about asking for another one because not only will you not get it but the rest of the bottle will probably have been consumed by Kim and Robin anyway."

"Fine," smiled Molly.

"And just so that everything's clear," Alex continued, "a couple of other rules for tonight."

"_Rules?"_ Molly cried, slightly outraged that she needed to be set ground rules for one night seeing in the new year with her mother.

Alex nodded.

"Number one," she said, "no laughing at me for not hearing of bands that didn't exist before I went for a long lay down. Number two, we're watching Big Ben whether you like it or not, I don't care how 'uncool' it is."

"That's fine," Molly laughed.

"Number three, bed at half twelve on the dot," said Alex, "I know you're growing up fast but I'll do well to keep my eyes open until then so let me get some sleep."

"Fine," Molly nodded.

"And number four," Alex hesitated, "do not, I repeat, do _not_ go within ten meters of Kim and Robin's bedroom, especially not if you can…" she cringed, "hear… anything."

"Mum, I'm fifteen," Molly gave a withering sigh, "I think I can figure that much out."

"Oh, you'd think so," Alex shook her head, "well, let me tell you, staying in the same flat as Kim has made me feel like I've lived as a nun my whole life." Alex cringed as she spoke. Had she overstepped the mark? This was exactly what she meant by not knowing the boundaries of acceptable conversation with an almost-sixteen-year old daughter.

Molly, for her part, was more amused than embarrassed and took it in her stride.

"I'll stay well away," she promised.

Alex's smile became a little less nervous. OK, so she might still find it difficult to make up for the years of Molly's adolescence she'd missed out on but she had a feeling that the evening was going to be one she would treasure.

~xXx~

"Oh _no."_

Robin looked at Kim in alarm.

"What?" he asked.

"What do you mean _what?"_ asked Kim, "I can see them."

"What?"

"Tears," Kim folded her arms, "you had better not be about to have a hormonal sobbing fit about how everyone's being horrible to you again."

Robin tried to scowl indignantly but Kim had been right. There _were_ tears in his eyes, but not from a hysterically pregnant point of view. He looked at the clock as it reached half past nine and said,

"No, I just realised something, that's all." He looked at Kim and his lips twitched into a half smile. "It was this time, one year ago." He remembered deciding right there and then, one year earlier, to be strong and to live. Moments after getting rid of the pills he'd stashed to take his life with there was a knock at his door and he found a stranger standing outside. _"'I worked under Gene Hunt',"_ he spoke the words that Kim had used to get across to him how she knew Simon and why she was there. He gave a gentle laugh. "You were all damp from the drizzle. You still had your log, dark hair."

When she realised what Robin was talking about Kim couldn't help but smile.

"You looked like you were going to have a heart attack when I told you I knew Simon from the other world," she said.

"You looked like _you_ were going to have a heart attack just from _being_ there!" Robin pointed out.

It was strange but neither had realised quite how significant new year's eve was to them until it had arrived. If Kim hadn't brought Robin the latter that night then he would have never known of her existence and never known who to go to for help when Alex needed their help to escape Evan's threat of sectioning.

With two things to celebrate instead of the traditional one, Robin and Kim spent New Year's Eve and the closing hours of 2011 doing what they did best, retiring to bed to forget about the rest of the world and wrap themselves up in their own little bubble. Nothing could touch them there – not while they had each other.

~xXx~

Alex and Molly stared at the TV screen as the countdown continued. It didn't matter how many times Alex told herself that the turn of the year really didn't mean anything, as soon as she started to hear the crowd counting down the seconds and hear Big Ben chiming it stirred up emotions inside her. The end of one year, a new beginning – oh, she knew it was a cliché but she couldn't help believing it.

The moment the first bong rang out Molly turned to her, her arms open wide and smile upon her face.

"Happy new year, mum," she beamed.

Her arms were around Alex's shoulders before she knew what was happening. A pang of guilt crept into her heart as she hugged Molly back. She had plans for 2012 that she had to keep in her heart. But to have the chance of welcoming in one last new year with her daughter was a gift that she had never expected to receive.

"Happy new year, Molly," she whispered.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: something that made me laugh today, I finally got through my confirmation that my maternity allowance had been processed (the joys of bloody self-employment) In the letter there's a section that says "You must tell us immediately if you do any of the following things:" which is followed by a list including things like go abroad, return to work, change your bank account etc – then the final item on the list says: 'Die.' With a harsh FULL STOP! Yes, I will be sure to tell them if I die. I will just nip round their office, haunt them for a few minutes and hope the message gets through! Anyway, it amused me because I was thinking Alex would probably have to inform them of that!**_


	62. Chapter 32, 1996: Welcome Toasts

_**A/N: Hello lovely A2A people – Oh, I have missed this strange little world. I'm sorry it's been a while, this is the first time I have been online for the last week – here is the short version of what's happened: Last week my son got very sick – admitted to hospital – started to recover - came home - evidently contracted the Norovirus in hospital – spends first day at home throwing up – whole family catch it – stupid author's rotten compromised immune system doesn't fight it – extreme dehydration causes contractions – threatened premature labour – hospital… This has been the worst week of my whole effing life. I swear I am THIS CLOSE to borrowing Simon's jumper.**_

_**Thankfully no baby yet, she needs to stay where she is for another 6 weeks. She's not finished baking yet! Still fragile at the moment, but this chapter was just about finished before Sam got sick so I'm easing myself in with some editing and hopefully can start writing properly again very soon. Thanks for letting me rant – now on with the New Year celebrations… or not, since the jumper maybe involved…**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 32: 1996**

"It's not the most extravagant New Year 's Eve I've ever known but I suppose it'll do," Gene said grudgingly as Simon furnished him with a can of lager and a bottle of scotch and told him to choose his weapon.

"You were the one who didn't want to go out," Simon reminded him.

"Doesn't mean you have to stay in and babysit me," Gene told him. He rubbed his forehead. "Bloody hell, anyone would think we were married. Next thing you know you'll be fetching me a pipe and slippers."

"Can't really see you as the slippers type," Simon shook his head and tried to imagine what kind of slippers he could buy to really piss Gene off. Maybe a pair of Noo-Noo ones since he had already declared that thing as the scourge of the Teletubbies.

Simon wasn't big on New Year at the best of times. He had never felt it was particularly meaningful and was usually the cause of much drunken, over-emotional sobbing from those who participated in the revelry, as well as an excuse for Jools Holland to take over BBC2 for the night. He thought he might be safe from that in 1996 but wasn't brave enough to check the schedules. The End of the Year Show, BBC1 and Angus Deyton was as far as he was going to venture that night.

"Go on then, Shoebury," Gene began, "sell ninety seven to me."

"Sell it to you?" frowned Simon.

"You're so keen on me sticking around, you'd better have some good reasons for me to stay put."

Simon closed his eyes as he tried to remember 1997, the first time around.

"I'm not even sure if I'm supposed to tell you stuff about the future," he remarked.

"Bollocks to rules, give me the details," said Gene.

Simon gave a deep sigh. He wasn't sure there was very much to sell 1997 to a man like Gene.

"There's the general election," he said hopefully.

"Just what I want to hear," Gene mumbled, "following around the bloody Cheshire Cat, trying not to let 'im get blown up."

"And I think they start building the Millennium Dome."

"If I knew what that was then I'm sure I wouldn't care," Gene commented.

"Look, you wanted me to sell it to you!"

"Well you're doing a pretty bloody bad job of it so far!"

"You didn't exactly give me time to put together a Powerpoint presentation."

Gene looked a little horrified.

"You keep yer bloody PowerPoint stashed away in yer pants and well away from me, he cried, edging further along the couch.

Simon sighed despairingly and shook his head.

"No, Gene, no…" he closed his eyes. "I don't suppose there's any point trying to explain software to you."

I don't care what condition it's in; hardware, software, just keep it away from me."

Simon knew he was onto a losing streak and couldn't find the energy to argue. He wasn't sure there was much to endear 1997 to Gene either. He knew that Gene regarded the decade with a high level of suspicion and didn't suspect that a year where Things Can Only Get Better made a comeback was going to convince him to stay out of the pub.

"Let's just watch the bloody TV," he sighed, "and leave ninety seven as a big surprise."

"Can you at least give me three tips for surviving the bloody thing?" Gene asked.

Simon rubbed his forehead.

"This is the questioning Alex usually gets, isn't it?" he sighed, "I bet you do this every year. Does she actually tell you anything or…"

"Are you going to give me a survival plan or what?" Gene demanded.

Simon closed his eyes and leaned back.

"Fine," he said, "my survival tips for ninety seven? Number one, get a pair of dark glasses for filtering out the glare off Tony Blair's grin. Number two…" he paused, "become a florist before august."

Gene's scowl bore a hole right through Simon's head.

"You can see me up to me armpits in petals and blocks of bloody foam can you, Shoebury?" he demanded.

"No, " Simon sighed, "It's because…" he trailed off, feeing a sad sensation pricking at him. He had been swept along with the emotion of Princess Diana's death the first time around. He wasn't looking forward to that happening again. He also didn't think it was a gopd time to tell Gene about the tragedy. "Never mind. Forget that one."

"You owe me a hint number three," Gene told him.

"Fine. Hint number three – don't watch Crime Traveller," said Simon. He paused. "Or Chalk. Or The Peter Principle. Or Sunnyside Farm."

"Is there anything I am allowed to bloody watch?"

"Yeah, your language," said Simon.

Gene raised an eyebrow. That was fairly quick for Simon.

"Alright. I'll give you that one," he said grudgingly.

Simon felt fairly proud of himself. From Gene, that was praise indeed

~xXx~

As the evening went on the result could have been easily predictable for anyone. An increasing amount of beer had been consumed which Simon wasn't handling half as well as Gene. _Shit, this wasn't part of the plan._ He was supposed to be keeping an eye on Gene and making sure he didn't make any stupidly rash decisions; instead he was fast losing the ability to talk without slurring, spilling beer all over himself and letting out belches that could put Kim to shame.

Somewhere deep down he knew what the problem was. He'd been so busy trying to help Gene through the festive period without Alex that he'd subconsciously been using it as a reason not to focus on his own problems and now the alcohol was letting them back out. Files and tapes that Keats had been kind enough to share with him, little secrets from his mother's past… getting arrested, having a one night stand, the near-break down of his parents' marriage and the question mark hanging over his paternity. As the year entered its final half hour he found himself dwelling more and more on them.

The more he thought about it, the more his mind went onto other matters too. The whole year had been one large pile of steaming manure. He thought about some of his mistakes – all the heavy drinking, his indiscretion with Keats, even stealing a photo album from his old family home.

"Shitty year."

Gene looked at him.

"Oi," he said sternly, _"I'm_ supposed have the monopoly on misery tonight."

"Oh, have you bollocks," Simon mumbled, reaching for another can of lager.

"Alright," Gene sat up straight, "before yer bloody storm cloud pisses all over the lounge and the couch floats away, tell me what's got you looking like Eddie in a stapler shortage."

Simon really wasn't in the mood for Gene's creative put-downs that night. Torn between wanting to spout his troubles and wanting to just sit in silence and wait for the worst year of his life… well, _death_… to be over. Eventually he shook his head and glanced at Gene. He found to his surprise that Gene seemed to be serious about wanting to know what was wrong. He was looking at him, waiting for a response. Finally he decided to give a brief answer.

"Family crap playing on my mind," he said, "just because I shut up about it doesn't mean it's gone away." 

"Look, Shoebury," Gene began, straightening up a little, "The more you think about it the worse it's going to grow in yer head. Truth is, you don't know how much Jimbo's concocted for himself, or what really happened and you can't drop round _Chez Shoebury_ and ask yer old man either. You'll probably never know what really happened and you'll end up driving yerself into as much rage as one of yer toasters about it. Next time pencil neck sends one of his envelopes your way, open the bugger, take a crap in it and post it back, first class."

Simon closed his eyes and tried not to think about the subject of crapping in envelopes.

"It's more than that though," he said, "I mean, here I am, new year's eve, I'm no better off than I was this time last year. Worse off even."

"How are you worse off?" asked Gene, "Because you've loaned yer couch to me instead of to a rug-munching punk with a hedgehog on her head?"

Simon considered telling Gene to apologise for his description of Kim but he could see from his expression that Kim was actually one of the few people he had a grudging respect for and decided to let those comments go.

"It's got nothing to do with who is or is not commandeering my sofa," he sighed, "it's…" he trailed off for a moment, working out exactly how to express himself. "I mean, look at me. What have I achieved this year? Have I done my job well? No. Have I adjusted to life after death? No. I've spent half the year with a higher blood alcohol level than _you_. I messed up a crapload of past-present-paradox bollocks by going to my family's house instead of telling you the truth. I let Kim down. I let Lindsay down. I managed to have a one night stand with the fucking _devil_. I've been sent to investigate people sticking their nobs in computers and getting their lives cut short by toasters. I've lived on beer, pizza and tranquilisers. And I'm wearing Noel Edmonds's fucking cast offs."

Gene stared at Simon. He thought about his words. He thought about them for a very long time, then finally he nodded.

"Alright Shoebury," he said eventually, "you win this round. The crown of misery is all yours."

"I don't _want_ a crown of misery," Simon sighed, "I want to…" he wished he knew what the end of that sentence was. "I want to… to get _out_ of this bloody loop of misery. I want things to get better but I just keep making them worse."

"Hoe you're not expecting advice," Gene told him gruffly, "because I'll need someone to give some to _me_ first. You think _you've_ had a bad year, at least _you_ didn't try to start a meaningful relationship with the pot plants outside the bloody station after a night of the fine amber nectar."

Simon felt a dark hole burning in his chest as he drank a lot of beer. There was more to his mood than that. More than even he had realised at first.

"There's something else though, Gene," he said.

"Edmonds called and asked for 'is jumper back?"

Simon didn't even respond.

"I actually thought," he began, "not so long ago, that things were going to turn around for me."

Now he had Gene's attention. Something about the way he spoke made Gene's curiosity come to the fore.

"What d'you mean?" he asked.

Simon's hart felt heavy suddenly.

"a while back," he began quietly, "I actually thought Robin was about to make it over here."

Gene hadn't been expecting that.

"Batman?" he asked, "not to rain on yer parade but, why?"

Simon couldn't bring himself to look at Gene. Or, _anywhere_ but into his beer. He found it hard enough even thinking about it.

"I found a tape," he began, "In Keats's basement."

"Well, that was clearly yer first mistake," Gene told him, "what kind of tape? As far as I know Jimbo only stocks two genres; snuff and sex."

"It was Robin's tape of how he got here before," Simon said quietly, "the car accident. I… I was looking for anything you could use to bring Keats down with, in the basement of Fenchurch West. I saw a tape with his name on. I don't even know why I watched it… I was just feeling so fucking low. I missed him so much. I just wanted…" he closed his eyes. "I _needed_ to see him again."

"I don't get why that made you think he was about to head over in the Batmobile," Gene said.

Simon exhaled loudly.

"The tape didn't end where I thought it would," he said quietly. He glanced at Gene and saw him looking more surprised than he'd anticipated. He supposed sometimes he thought Gene had all the answers. He was wrong. "I saw the bloody accident," he began, "then I saw Robin fading out and waking up back home. Back in two thousand and ten. And I thought that was going to be it but then the scene changed."

Gene's expression reflected a level of surprise Simon hadn't expected.

"I take it we're not talking about some x-files repeat?" he said.

Simon shook his head.

"There was another car crash," he said quietly, "Alex was driving."

Simon's words made Gene's chest lock up for a moment. He forgot how to breathe. It took him several seconds before he could pull himself together for long enough to respond.

"You'd better explain that before I lose me remaining marbles."

"To explain it I'd have to _understand_ it," Simon sighed. He looked at Gene. "I think it was when Alex came back, before. When the wrong one was here. Gene, for a split second that day, just after I crashed with the…_ other_... Alex, I swear Robin was next to me in the car, just for a moment. On the tape…" he swallowed, trying to fight the wealth of emotions coming forth, "I saw it for real. He was here, just for a moment. Then… he was back _there_ and…" he wasn't sure he could finish his sentence. He wasn't sure if Gene was ready to hear it. But he was too far gone beneath the depths of alcohol to rein it in. "Gene, I _watched_ him. He sent her _home_."

Gene stared on. He seemed to swallow so hard that Simon saw his Adam's apple move.

"In what way, _sent her home_?" he asked stiffly.

Simon looked down.

"He did… what _we_ do… but over there," he said quietly.

Gene breathed in deeply. This wasn't the shock development to him that Simon probably assumed that it was – it was something he had long suspected – but having it conformed had shaken him somewhat. He drank in silence for a few minutes, then finally spoke again.

"And then what?" he asked. He wasn't ready to ask any more about Alex's passage home. At least he knew he always had the option of asking Simon if that ever changed.

"After he set her back," Simon began quietly, "something happened. Had a heart attack or something, " he glanced at Gene. "Remember my funny turn in your car?"

"Still got the dent in the roof," Gene commented crossly.

"I think I was somehow tapping into his resuscitation," Simon said quietly, "he was almost here, again. But he didn't make it over."

"Shoebury," Gene began, "hate to point out the bleeding obvious but that was more than a year ago. What made you think he was coming to pay you a visit this year?"

"The tape didn't stop there," Simon sighed, "there was more. You wouldn't believe it."

"Try me."

Simon wished he'd never started this conversation. He was feeling worse by the moment.

"I watched Robin killing Keats, in Layton's body, back in the real world," he said slowly, "Keats had slashed him to pieces. He was bleeding like crazy. I… couldn't understand everything I saw after that. There was a boat, and Robin… he ran into it… Kim and Molly were on it."

Now Gene was looking at him as though he'd lost the plot.

"And this was while you were drinking heavily…?" he asked.

"No, Gene, I'm bloody _serious!"_ Simon cried, "Robin carried Molly out, put her on the ground and collapsed." He closed his eyes. "Then Kim started clutching her chest and –"

"Hold on, Shoebury, why was Stringer groping herself?"

"_No!_ I mean she was having a heart attack or something!"

Gene stared at the drinks on the table. He was sure he hadn't had _that_ much to drink yet.

"This video," he began, "I suppose it had an eighteen rating on it. Higher bodycount than a bloody Tarantino film by the sounds of it."

Simon ignored him.

"I thought that was it," he said quietly, "roll credits, movie over. But then the static cleared and…" he almost slapped his forehead. It sounded so stupid. "First of all some… _trailer_… for BBC one came on… talking about programmes coming up in the new season or something…"

"You need to switch that flaming box off and get out more," Gene commented.

"And then I saw flashes," Simon continued, "just… bits of images. I didn't really understand it. It was crackly, not like the other parts of the tape which were as clear as anything. I didn't recognise where he was, just that there was a shop and a load of watches and then there was a bang. Like gunfire or something."

"And then?" Gene prompted.

Simon's face fell.

"Then nothing," he said, "but I… I thought for sure he was back, or on his way. Then I went storming over to Fenchurch East, and then Alex disappeared. And I've spent the past seven months hoping that Robin was about to appear." He took a swig from his can. "Not happened yet."

Gene really wasn't sure what he could say. More than that, he didn't know what Simon _wanted_ him to say. He gave a long, drawn out sigh as he switched from beer to scotch, poured himself a large measure and finally turned back to him.

"Simon," he began, "Who knows what Jimbo keeps in his video vault. We know about his collection of snuff movies. We know he's partial to switching on the camcorder when he'd lured someone to his bed. But after that?" he shrugged, "don't have a rat's turd how the whole thing works. Don't know where he gets them. Don't know how, or why, or who. Mate of a mate? Appearing out of thin air? No one knows. I don't mean to sound like yer jumper on a wet weekend but there's no telling what you really saw."

"I thought I was seeing a glimpse of the future," Simon said despondently.

"And maybe you were. Or maybe Hellface left a trick on the slight chance a wandering Shoebury might want a private viewing. Or maybe Batman's got 'is own prime time series coming up. We don't know." He took another gulp of scotch before he set his glass on the table. "But whatever it meant, I'm sorry you're stuck with me instead of welcoming in two thousand and bollocks with 'im."

"And I'm sorry you've got a gay geek with an Arnold Rimmer complex as a New Year mate instead of Alex," Simon said quietly.

Gene lifted his glass again. He shouldn't have bothered putting it down, really. He held it out to Simon. He knew it wasn't Midnight yet; Angus Deyton still had much waffling to do and Big Ben wasn't ready to chime but it seemed appropriate anyway.

"Raise yer glass, Shoebury," he demanded.

"To what, exactly."

"To the backend of a bloody awful year," said Gene. He waited for Simon to pick up his can and then continued. "To nineteen ninety six, piss off back to the festering pigsty you emerged from twelve months ago and bring on a better one. Because, bugger me, ninety seven _can't_ be any bloody worse."

Simon nodded and joined his can with Gene's glass. That was a toast he could happily drink to.


	63. Chapter 33, 2012: New Fear

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the nice thoughts and reviews yesterday, I really appreciated them and I am so glad that you're still enjoying it and happy to see it back (as am I – funny how much I missed escaping into this weird little universe) I seem to be getting back on track writing even though I'm typing at a snail's pace! Getting there slowly but surely and I promise I will make a valiant attempt to actually constructing some emails and being sociable in the next couple of days :)**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 33: 2012**

Alex's smile was distant and a mix of sadness and enjoyment as she sat at the kitchen table, stirring her coffee and watching Molly tucking into her egg on toast. She knew she had to savour every moment of this, commit it to memory. This was the last chance she would get to share a moment like this with her daughter and she wanted to make sure that she never forgot a second.

Despite Molly happily agreeing to Alex's fixed curfew of half past 12 they had both found themselves oversleeping and it was almost ten when they both woke up. They didn't feel unduly lazy though since there was no sign of either Robin nor Kim yet. They'd decided to have a leisurely breakfast before Molly's foster mother picked her up at lunchtime.

"Mols, I wanted to ask you something," Alex began a little awkwardly. She fiddled with her plate as she tried to work out how to word it without giving away more than she anticipated. "I'd really like us to have the opportunity to spend a little more time together before…" she hesitated, "before you go back to school. Would you like to go shopping? Slow, gentle shopping, that is."

Molly nodded excitedly at the thought of spending more time with Alex as she slowly recuperated.

"That's the best kind of shopping," she said, "less chance of dropping your bags and getting blisters that way!"

"What day do you go back to school?" Alex asked.

"Wednesday," said Molly.

Inwardly Alex cursed. She'd had Wednesday on her schedule as her_ saying-goodbye-to-Molly_ day. She had to do some fast rethinking of her final week. She would have to swap around her goodbye with Molly and her visit to her parents' graves.

How about Tuesday then?" she asked, trying to keep her smile light-hearted and happy rather than tinged with guilt and sadness. "One last big day before you have to get back to the grindstone."

"That's great," Molly 's enthusiasm grew, "I'll have to check when I get home but I think that's fine."

"I'll text you to make sure and arrange a time then," Alex said, smiling with relief that she'd been able to arrange her final day with her daughter. She tried hard to ignore the nagging feelings of guilt that were pulling at her heart and to focus on using the time they had together wisely. She began to cut into her egg on toast, the food a welcome distraction from all thoughts about the tough week ahead, but as her fork was halfway to her mouth a Robin-shaped blur rushed by to the bathroom and she froze. She hoped that Molly hadn't noticed but the horrible sounds that followed left her in little doubt what was going on. Molly's horrified face turned to Alex, eyes open wide as she asked anxiously.

"W-was that… _Robin?"_

Alex cringed. Oh, this was not a conversation she wanted to begin.

"Yes," she said with a sigh, "I think it was."

"Is… is he OK?" Molly asked, frowning, "do you think we need to see if everything's alright?"

Alex didn't want to have to get into the subject of hysterical pregnancies.

"He probably had a little too much champagne last night and is nursing a hangover," she said, "that's all."

"But they didn't drink their champagne," said Molly.

Alex frowned.

"How do you know?"

"The bottle is still in the fridge, almost full," Molly told her, "I saw it when I got the eggs."

Alex wanted to groan. This wasn't an easy subject to attempt to explain so she decided to skirt around it.

"They probably decided to go for something stronger instead," she said, "which is a good lesson for you about drinking in moderation, young lady," she tagged onto the end to make it sound more authentic.

Molly made a face and went back to her egg on toast. The two of them ate in silence for a few moments, tactfully ignoring a slightly green Robin leaving the bathroom and slinking back to bed. Eventually Molly finished her breakfast and laid down her knife and fork before she turned to Alex looking slightly sheepish. There were questions on her mind that she really couldn't chase away but didn't know how to ask. Eventually she began,

"Mum? Can I ask you something?"

Alex swallowed the penultimate forkful of egg and looked at Molly.

"No, you may not drink the rest of their champagne," she said, but this time Molly didn't even pull a sarcastic face.

"It's about Gene," she said.

All of a sudden, Alex's last piece of egg felt like sand as she put it in her mouth. She froze, her chewing ceased for a moment. The words had taken her by surprise. She finally realised that she had to clear her mouthful somehow but also could use a little time to prepare for the questioning ahead so she cleared her throat slightly and very slowly chewed the last of her breakfast. It seemed to stick as she swallowed it down, as though she was trying to polish off a boulder. Finally she looked at Molly who was waiting patiently for her response. As she laid down her cutlery and pushed away her plate she gave a slightly sombre nod.

"Go on," she whispered.

"Is he like you?" Molly asked quietly.

Alex wasn't sure what she meant.

"I don't follow, Mols."

"Is he somewhere… in a coma?" Molly asked.

Alex shook her head slowly, the words choking her as much as the last of the food.

"No, Molly," she said quietly, "Gene died a very long time ago."

Molly took in her mother's words and nodded very slowly.

"Would I like him?" she asked eventually.

Alex let out an involuntary giggle.

"Oh Mols," she said, "I don't know. Probably not, at first, because that's how it _always_ begins. But when you got the measure of each other…" she felt herself smiling a little. She could see that her daughter had enough of Alex in her to get the measure of Gene fairly quickly. "Yes, Molly. I think you would like him. And I know he'd like you."

Molly nodded slowly and started to play with the crumbs on her otherwise empty plate. She took a deep breath before she asked her next question.

"This… _place,"_ she began, using air quotes with such efficiency that Alex could almost see herself sitting there, "that you went to. Do you have to be in the police force or do other people go there as well?"

"I'm not entirely sure how it works," Alex said quietly, "I don't know if every profession has its own… _place,_" she used air quotes too, but hers were mostly sarcastic, to mirror her daughter fondly, "and somewhere there is a dimension full of frustrated hairdressers or traumatised accountants, or whether this world is… is _unique_. I don't know whether there are others who find their way there, people who aren't from the force but have another reason for making the journey. And I still know that this must be a difficult concept to grasp because…" she shook her head slowly, _"I_ still find it difficult to work out how it's possible in my own mind. But somehow… It's real."

Molly went very quiet. She tried to mull over what Alex had said and work out whether there was anything else that she wanted to ask. She had a horrible feeling all of the questions would come back to her as soon as she left for the day. Eventually she settled for giving her mother a slightly nervous smile and said,

"I wish I'd known about all of this before."

Alex's eyes turned down for a moment as she gave a slightly sad smile.

"I understand," she said quietly, "I really do. I wish there had been an easier way to explain it to you."

The silence that fell between them wasn't uncomfortable or awkward in any way, not as it had been in the early days after Alex awoke from her coma. Although in one sense it was going to make it harder to leave, Alex couldn't help but feel grateful that she and Molly had fund themselves in comfortable familiarity once again. She wasn't sure that was one thing she'd be able to achieve before she had to say goodbye. That was something she'd be taking away with her and holding fondly in her heart forever.

~xXx~

Kim feigned sleep and pretended not to notice Robin's emergency bathroom visit as he climbed back into bed. She didn't want to get into an argument about it this morning. She didn't want to start voicing her concern again and open up a whole can of worms about doctor's appointments, and she knew that she _would_ if she didn't just pretend not to notice. She wanted to start of the New Year on a bright note so she simply waited a few minutes until enough time had passed to 'wake up' convincingly and moved a little closer. She wrapped an arm around him and felt the soothing warmth of his back against her chest.

"Happy new year," she said, a little unnecessarily since they'd already marked the event the night before. She felt Robin relax against her as his head turned slightly.

"Morning," he said quietly, "happy New Year."

"What's the time?" Kim asked.

"I think it's late," Robin said, not completely sure what the time was himself, "serves us right for staying up till two and laughing at the neighbours out in the car park for their piddling little fireworks."

"Oh come on, they were so pathetic, they deserved everything they got," said Kim.

"I think they could have done without you pointing out you've done farts louder than their bangers," Robin told her.

"I've heard_ fleas_ fart louder than their bangers," Kim told him.

Robin shuffled around to face Kim in bed, her hair sticking up at all angles. It made him smile.

"Your hair looks like a bloody firework," he said which made her laugh and try to flatten it down a little.

"Sorry," she said with smile.

"Don't be, "Robin told her, "it's _you."_

Kim blushed and hated herself for it. _What a bloody sappy reaction,_ she told herself off for her response. She was fairly sure the honeymoon period was supposed to be over by now, but it didn't seem to be in the slightest. She felt maybe this happiness was her reward for all those years of trying to deal with the aftermath of coming back from Gene's world. Now she had a life she truly loved for the first time. It still felt strange.

"So what are the plans for today?" she asked.

"Nothing," sighed Robin, "just ignoring the rest of the world and doing sod all."

"Eating breakfast would still be a good idea though," said Kim, "I'm starving."

"I'm not surprised, you've barely eaten for the last week," Robin said, a little concerned about Kim's lack of appetite in the last few days. She seemed awkward and uneasy about his comment and shuffled away slightly. "I'm just worried, Kim. You'd be pestering _me_ if I was the one refusing to eat."

"You are refusing to eat – anything except _beans_," Kim pointed out, "which, by the way, I could _really_ do without seeing you use the empty tins from to build a drum kit with today."

"I thought you appreciated my artistic and musical endeavours," Robin told her.

"You were using six empty tins and two pencils as drumsticks," Kim reminded him, "It was the least musical rendition of _Auld Lang Syne_ I've ever heard!"

"I just need more practice," Robin pouted.

"Then practice in the recycling bin because that's where those cans are going today," Kim told him. She sat up and stretched slowly, wondering what sort of a day 2012 had in store for its opening act. 2011 had been a mixed year with extreme highs and lows. Now she was looking forward to whatever adventures 2012 had to offer.

~xXx~

"I'm taking liberties and I know it," Alex said with a smile, crossing the first of January from her list of days, "the day isn't over yet. I just wanted to see the first day of the year crossed off here." She replaced the lid of her pen and sank into the chair. Suddenly the number of days left until their journey seemed very small indeed.

There was a sense of peace falling upon her now. Spending the new year with Molly, having an extra opportunity to spend time with her daughter that she hadn't been expecting, their conversation over breakfast – they had all helped her to feel more focused on the difficult task ahead.

"Molly… wanted to know if she would like you," she said quietly. While she knew Gene couldn't hear her she found it comforting to talk to him whenever she focused on her flipchart. She gave a gentle laugh. "I didn't know what to tell her, Gene. You're very good at getting people's backs up on first impressions. _But,"_ she sighed with a smile as she leaned back, "I have a feeling you'd win her round. Without really trying."

She closed her eyes and tried to picture what it would be like if Gene and Molly were ever to meet, as impossible as the concept would be. Gene's usual level of experience with teenage girls was arresting them for loitering on street corners and telling them to do something with their lives. She wasn't sure how he would approach someone like Molly.

Home was getting closer now and she could feel it with every day that passed. She knew that the difficult part still awaited her – whatever she needed to do in Manchester to find her way back was never going to be easy and the thought terrified her inside, but she was ready to face it.

The nineties were so close that she might as well have been watching the 1996 _End of the Year Show_ the night before.

~xXx~

"Today went fast," Kim sighed as she slid into bed, watching Robin climb in beside her.

"I know. Weird, wasn't it?" he agreed. For some reason the day seemed to fly past, even though they both agreed that the new year often seemed to drag as the festivities had passed and the world was just wasting time as it prepared to get back to normal. "Although in _your_ case that might have been from spending most of the day with your head stuck in the fridge."

Kim muffled a hiccup and blushed. Her lack of appetite from the week before had suddenly gone into reverse and she'd spent much of the day on the hunt for food. Or, as she put it, _food which included nothing small, orange and round_. She felt stuffed and bloated now but at least no one was hassling her about being stressed and not eating enough.

"Yes, well, at least_ I_ wasn't trying to play _Name That Tune_ on a makeshift drum kit," she told Robin with a stern note in her voice, "those tins are going out in the bin tomorrow."

"You said that today and you didn't get rid of them."

"Didn't have the heart to! You were like a kid with the most exclusive toy at Christmas!"

As they settled back against their pillows and switched off their bedside lights Robin's expression seemed to change. In the near-darkness it was almost imperceptible at first and Kim wasn't sure if she was imagining it but after a few moments of awkward silence she finally had to ask,

"Rob? Are you alright?"

A tiny glint of light from the crack in the curtain lit up his eyes.

"I'm fine, he said quietly."

"You… don't seem it," Kim said quietly.

Robin found his hand reaching for her hair as a distraction. He played through her blonde crop with his fingers as he began quietly,

"I've been thinking about something. That's all."

"What?"

His dark eyes seemed to develop a deeply layered emotional look as he said quietly,

"When you told me about your family the other night. About Julian." He saw Kim look a little sad and wondered if he should have spoken but it was too late now. "I know that it wasn't easy. Sharing family stuff…. The stuff you never talk about… it's hard."

"I just wanted you to know everything about me," Kim said quietly.

Robin nodded.

"I know," he said, "and I understand, because I do to. Want you to know everything about _me_, I mean." He swallowed, choking on his own words. He took a deep breath before he continued. "I've never told you about my parents. Have I?"

Kim stared at him. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. No, he had never told her about his parents. The most she knew was that his father had killed his mother and that was the full extent of her knowledge.

"No," she said quietly, "you haven't." She moved a little closer and looked at him seriously, "and you don't have to – not unless you're really ready."

Robin nodded slowly.

"I don't think I'd ever be 'ready'," he said, "but I want you to know." He looked away for a moment, trying to ground himself before he continued. "We were not a very happy family. My father wasn't a very nice person." He took a deep breath. "He liked to drink. He wasn't a drunk… but when he did drink, the alcohol didn't make him a very pleasant person to be around. Mum always said it was the stress of his job."

"What did he do?" Kim asked quietly.

"He was a chef," Robin said with a slightly bitter laugh, "Yeah, I know, Ironic isn't it. paused. "It… usually wasn't physical. But me and my mum, we got a lot of abuse in other ways. Verbal, mental, emotional." He looked seriously at Kim. "I started seeing the same things in the way Linda treated you."

Kim felt awkward and anxious suddenly. It had taken Robin's urging for her to see what Linda was doing.

"Go on," she said quietly.

Robin felt himself shaking slightly as he continued.

"Over the years things just got worse… slowly, I guess. One night he came home early. He'd been sent home for yelling abuse at an unhappy customer. He found me up and watching TV when I should have been in bed and," his whole body gave a jolt, almost as though he was feeling what happened next all over again, "I got the brunt of his anger." He barely even noticed the arms that wrapped around him, trying to take away the pain of his memories. "That was the first time he had ever beaten me."

"Shit, Rob," Kim breathed, horrified by his words, "I'm _so _sorry."

Robin took a few moments before he could continue.

"When my mum saw the state of me she went to pieces," Robin said quietly, "she felt so guilty for leaving us in danger for so long. The next day she made plans, tried to find us a space in a shelter, started to pack. We were going to get out of there. We had everything ready just to go when he left for work the next day, but somehow –" his heart sank as he whispered three words that still brought him dread, "he found out." He felt Kim's hold over him tightening, trying to protect him somehow from the memories. "He started to beat and kick her so badly, Kim, _so _badly. She couldn't fight back, his anger…" he shook his head and tried to fight back tears, "I tried to protect her, I got a knife but he was so much bigger and stronger than me…"

"You were a kid, Rob, you couldn't have stood a chance," Kim whispered. He could see her own eyes glistening with tears by now.

"He just knocked me out, Kim," Robin's voice was weak as he finished sharing the pain he'd kept locked up inside, "and the next thing I remembered was being scooped up by this copper… carried out." He closed his eyes tightly and tried to calm his breathing. "That was the moment I felt the safest I _ever_ had. And that was the moment I knew what I had to do with my life."

Kim stared at him, her body paralysed in anguish for what Robin had been through. She fought hard to stop herself from succumbing to tears. That was the last thing that Robin needed. She had to be strong for him after he'd found the strength to talk about something that had scarred him so deeply. Eventually she pulled herself together for long enough to speak.

"Robin," she whispered. Her use of his full name brought his eyes to open and his attention back to her. "I can't imagine… can't even _begin_ to… what you went through is just… beyond…" she paused as she swallowed, trying to work out what to say, "I would do anything to take that away from you. Away from your past. And I'm so sorry that there's nothing that I can do to change it. But… but look what you've achieved in your life. Look at what you've done, all the people you've helped, lives you've saved, the crooks you've locked away because of the decision you made. I don't think many people would take something so strong from such a terrible event, Rob. The fact that you did – " she shook her head. "It's amazing."

Robin didn't really know how to react to Kim's words. It wasn't something he had ever really thought about. To him, he knew he had chosen the right career and enjoyed what he did but those were terms he had never thought of it in before. He closed his eyes and let the feeling of her hand moving back and forth against his back to bring him comfort until he finally spoke again.

"I don't have a lot of memories from my childhood," he said quietly, "I blanked a lot of it out. I don't remember very much about either of my parents. I wish that I did." He looked down. "About my mother, anyway."

"Do you have any other family?" Kim asked quietly.

"They tried to trace some long lost aunt for a while," Robin sighed a little distantly, "turned out she was so long-lost that she never existed in the first place. My mother had no brothers or sisters and _her_ parents died when I was young."

Kim hesitated to ask but curiosity got the better of her.

"And your father's side?" she whispered.

Robin bristled a little.

"He was estranged from his family," he said quietly, "he'd always had anger issues. I have a vague memory of hearing that he was married or engaged once before, a long time before he met mum. His temper drove his relationship apart. But I never knew any of his family."

Kim looked at him seriously.

"Rob," she whispered, "thank you."

"What for?"

"Trusting me. Sharing this with me."

Robin bit his lip.

"Ninety five," he whispered, "the year both our lives changed."

"What happened to your father?" Kim asked.

Robin drew in a deep breath.

"Never found him," he said quietly, "he disappeared without a trace. Got away at the scene. Stabbed an officer in the leg, made a run for it and managed to evade arrest all these years."

"No leads at all?"

"There were a few sightings in the aftermath of his disappearance. Some in the UK. A couple abroad. But nothing concrete."

"Shit," Kim wished that there had at least been justice for Robin but it seemed that would never be a possibility. "Have you kept up to date with the case? I mean, maybe something's come up –"

"If it does then it'll only be anther false lead and not worth the stress," Robin said quietly.

""Maybe I can find out something?" Kim said quietly, "what was his name? When was he born?"

Robin shook his head slowly. He knew there was nothing new. Even now he would check every so often.

"Jeffrey," he said, "his name was Jeffrey. I think he was born around fifty-four or fifty-five. That's all I know about him and all I care to."

Kim nodded slowly. She could see from his expression not to take the subject any further.

"Sure," she whispered. She closed her eyes and pulled his face closer where she pressed her lips to his forehead gently, then let him go and closed her eyes as she lay beside him, wishing once again that she could take away the terrible events that had occurred in his past.

They fell into silence as they just lay together and held one another. There didn't seem to be any words to say. But as they lay side by side and Robin slowly, eventually drifted to sleep, his dark childhood finally shared, Kim found her thoughts going back to one aspect of their talk. One word, one name, kept playing through her mind as though it held a familiarity she couldn't quite place. _Jeffrey… Jeffrey_… she couldn't stop it from cycling through her mind.

She'd been lying awake for well over an hour when it suddenly hit her like a bolt from the blue, striking her in the chest like an arrow. It caused her eyes to fly open and her heart to thump as she sat upright, trembling just a little.

_Coincidence._ That's all it was. That's all it could have been.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Maybe she was confusing things. Maybe she was just remembering it wrong.

But then there were other facts… things that seemed to add up. She felt a swirling of faint nausea in her chest as her illogical fears brought her legs to flee the bed and pace up and down the room. It was impossible. Coincidences didn't come in supersize. But the more she thought about it, the more things she remembered and soon she found herself rushing out of the room and to the lounge where she grabbed her laptop from the coffee table and pulled it quickly onto her lap. She glanced at the clock. It was almost two in the morning. What the hell was she _doing?_ She'd be getting up again before she knew it. But her mind wouldn't rest.

She opened up her laptop's lid and quickly sent her browser to the Channel 4 website where she opened up 4OD and looked for a shockingly familiar page.

"Bloody Dispatches," she mumbled as she clicked on an episode and turned the sound down low. She glanced around to make sure that no one had heard her. The rest of the flat seemed as quiet as anything. She turned her attention back to the screen and took a deep breath, then started the episode playing. It took her a moment to realise that she'd selected the wrong one in her state of nervousness as a horrifying image of DI March with his cardboard cut-out of Nick Nailer appeared.

"_Shit! Wrong one!_

She quickly stopped it before any of the horrifying Youtube footage could be shown and backed out to find the right episode instead. When it started to play she could feel her stomach churning. She'd already had to watch this through once just recently. She wasn't sure she could stand watching it again, even just a few minutes of it. But she had to. Her fears were swelling inside.

"_The public should feel safe at the hands of our good officers and detectives; the mental health of those brave men and women is of utmost importance. So what happens when the man in charge of ensuring the mental health of every officer in the country turns out to be deeply mentally and emotionally disturbed himself?"_

Kim felt herself shaking as the annoying woman spoke familiar words that she'd seen to many times before. She skipped past a little of the intro, her heart speeding up as she moved the tracker along the bar.

"…_Back in nineteen ninety three, PC James Keats was a young cop on the beat. But first, we take a look at the man before the incident. The young man whose life was changed after a horrifying attack left him comatose for four years of his life."_

This was it. No way back now. A presenter with zero skill and a high annoyance factor delivered the facts that Kim sought to tie together the possibility that her mind was trying to push upon her.

_"James Keats was born in nineteen seventy to teenage parents. Sixteen year old Laura Keats was cast out of her family in shame after falling pregnant. She had met her boyfriend Jeffrey while both were taking their O Levels. A teenage romance that quickly went sour, Jeffrey's family took in both the young baby James and his mother but the relationship faltered as he entered technical college to learn a trade in catering and the stressful life brought out his temper. When she was eighteen. Laura moved to East London with the young James Keats where they made a new life together. James knew little of his father growing up and never heard from him again."_

Kim found herself turning the video back time and again, playing the same two lines repeatedly. It was involuntary. She just couldn't stop herself.

"…_She had met her boyfriend Jeffrey…"_

"…_her boyfriend Jeffrey…"_

"… _Jeffrey…"_

"…_the relationship faltered as he entered technical college to learn a trade in catering…"_

"… _a trade in catering…"_

"…_catering…"_

Her eyes closed and she swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat as she quickly snapped her laptop shut and stood up, her heart thumping in her chest. She began to pace as her mind flashed back to Robin talking about Keats's extreme reaction to seeing the photograph of his parents and the horrifying act that it stopped him from carrying out against him. She remembered with dread the moment in hospital where the nurse brought back Robin's photograph and tried to give him a second picture that had been found on Layton's body after Keats's soul had left it.

_"It's the same man,"_ the nurse had said.

_"It's not my photo,"_ Robin had insisted.

_"Are you sure?"_

_"I've never seen that photo in my life. It's not mine."_

_"Sorry, Robin,"_ The nurse had said quietly,_ "Thought it was another family picture. It looked just like your father."_

"No, no, no, _no,"_ Kim had to literally thrust a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. It was too much to consider. It was impossible; the odds too long. It made no sense on any level, and yet still her heart wouldn't stop pounding, nor would her stomach stop churning.

With tears of shock and fear starting to fill her eyes she drew in several deep breaths as she tried to comprehend where her thoughts were going. It was too much. Too great. Too difficult to process. She knew there was still a chance that it was a big coincidence. How many hundreds and thousands of Jeffreys must there be in the world? Surely more than one of them had sought a career in catering.

She knew that was a shallow way of looking at it. But she didn't care. She tried to cling to the last thread of hope that her thoughts were leading up a dead end for all she was worth. But as she felt an overwhelming urge to purge her stomach of its contents and to let forth a cry of extreme anguish she couldn't put out of her mind the evidence that was staring her in the face.

Everything she thought she knew was turning upside down and her heart was breaking right down the middle.


	64. Chapter 33, 1997: Bad Start

_**A/N: ARGH! FFnet seems to be having a blip. A big fat blip the size of the arse of a certain canteen worker at mid-nineties Fenchurch East. So yesterday I posted one of the most vital, important chapters in the whole story and the update alert didn't go out. In fact, it looks like update alerts were not working at all yesterday since I noticed a story I have on alert updated but never received an alert. Hmpf!**_

_**So! PLEASE go back and read the last chapter before you read this one! Couldn't have happened on a fluffy chapter (like this one) could it? Damnit! Anyway, I don't even know if alerts are working yet so you might not get on for this either. In which case this would all be academic. And then I might just be talking to myself. Might have to pad this out. Might do a song and dance routine.**_

_**A-one, a-two, a-one-two-three….. *Tap-dances furiously across screen***_

_**Or maybe not. Not really feeling that energetic yet!**_

_**Sorry. I think I've gone stir-crazy from bedrest :-/**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 33: 1997**

"_Oh… shit."_

It had been a while since Simon had consumed so much alcohol in such a short space of time. For several months he'd put his memory-rotting binges behind him as he struggled instead to keep Gene fairly sober and afloat after Alex disappeared but the new year had really managed to get the better of him and after the sixth can of lager and second measure of scotch everything was a bit of a blur. Which was ironic since the words _I love Damon Albarn_ were written crudely across his forehead in Gene's handwriting.

It took him a few moments to work out where he was. He wasn't in his bed, that was for sure. He tried to open his eyes as he clutched his fragile head in a vague attempt to stop it from cracking in two like an egg and saw enough of the fabric beneath him to realise he was on the floor. Or at least half of him was. His legs were somehow lying on the sofa while his head and shoulders had made a break for it.

"Gene?" he mumbled, cringing as the one quiet utterance shook his head like an elephant gallivanting down the high street in search of bargains in the new year sales, "where are you?"

His legs took the initiative and flopped from the couch, landing on the floor with a thump that set his fragile head thumping and his sloshing guts rolling. Oh _god_, why had he done this to himself? He honestly couldn't remember. He knew he'd been depressed, but it was the New Year – ninety percent of the _population_ were feeling the same way.

With a deep groan he tried to find an upright position but settled instead for half-crawling across the floor until he reached a piece of furniture at a suitable height to haul himself to his feet. The room swayed. Well, either _that_ or _he_ did, he wasn't all that certain which. With slow, deliberate steps he made his way out to the kitchen where he found Gene polishing off the remains of what looked to have been a fairly remarkable fry-up.

"Moring, lightweight," he greeted Simon's slightly green form as he tried to ignore the pool of grease floating around Gene's plate.

"How… on _earth_… can you eat that?" he demanded, clutching his stomach with one hand and steadying himself against the doorpost with the other.

"Cast-iron guts and a lifetime of hangover practice," said Gene as he mopped up the last of the grease with some fried bread, shoved it into his mouth and swallowed it down after barely chewing it.

Simon tried to shake his head and sigh but the shaking made his brain roll around so he gave that up and slumped over to the table instead where he sank down into a chair, grateful that the fried mountain had been consumed so he didn't have to watch it disappear down Gene's throat.

"Why didn't you stop me drinking?" he demanded.

"I'm not yer chaperone," Gene told him, "I didn't come to supervise yer school disco, make sure no one has more than 'alf a shandy."

Simon tried to eye up Gene but his vision was slightly wonky.

"Why don't you look half as bad as I feel?" he asked, "I swear you had just as much to drink."

"Yeah, and several decades o' practice too," Gene reminded him, "besides, you didn't have any pot plants for me to get friendly with so I stopped drinking when you passed out."

"Oh god, I didn't, did I?" Simon groaned, desperately hoping that the passing out had been a blessing rather than a curse and saved him from humiliating himself further.

"Just after you worked yer way through yer Spice Girls repertoire," Gene told him, "You made a pretty convincing Baby Spice."

Simon let his head flop to the table.

"Shit," he groaned.

"You said _that_ a lot too," Gene told him, "couldn't remember all the lyrics, apparently. Never realised the bloody girl power movement was so foul mouthed." He stood up and took his plate to the sink where he abandoned it. "I'll leave you and yer hangover to get acquainted in peace."

"Why? Where are you going?" Simon asked suspiciously.

"Anywhere your breath isn't going to make me eyes sting," said Gene and he made a hasty retreat.

~xXx~

Gene pulled his coat around him as he walked slowly down the near-empty road. How many times had he walked down there? Or driven, for that matter. Simon's flat was a literal stone's throw away from the station. He'd even tested that theory once or twice and blamed Simon for the resulting broken window. The one part of staying with Simon that had been cruel was the knowledge that Alex used to live in that flat many moons ago. Of course, so much water had passed under the bridge since then and many changes had taken place but there was always a little nagging voice at the back of his mind whenever he walked down the road.

His eyes turned to the shopfront that had once been_ Luigi's_ and had been through many changes since then. It had been all manner of bars, restaurants, even a trendy hairdresser at one point. It currently stood empty. _Fairly fitting,_ Gene felt.

He found himself walking without purpose. True, there was a part of him that just wanted to walk off the slight hangover that he was trying to put out of his mind and he also wasn't intending on waiting around while Simon discovered the various other inebriated incidents he'd caused the night before but there was a slight ulterior motive behind his wandering. Tracing familiar footsteps on a quiet and almost empty day, it echoed the way he felt. Where once he'd woken with a drive to clear the streets of scum and crud every day, there was now just an empty feeling. It wasn't going away.

He circled the whole area, walking past the closed _Latte Land_ and bemoaning bank holidays internally. He passed the leather shop where Simon had spent a fortune trying to emulate the Sam Tyler look a year ago. He even passed the tattoo studio where Kim had spent a fair part of her early days in the world.

It wasn't just Alex who had gone. Ray, Chris, Shaz, Susannah, Malcolm, Kim – all the people who passed through the doors of Fenchurch East and moved on had left their mark on the world but ultimately were needed elsewhere – either back in their own time or on the other side of the Railway Arms. Gene knew things felt different. He no longer had a strong team at his disposal. He was running CID with a skeleton crew at best. Where were all the lost souls? Did they no longer need him? Or were they being held back because he was no longer able to do the job? As he came full circle and arrived back at Simon's, he realised that things were not changing. They weren't getting any better. In his mind, his time was over.

He didn't see the glint of starlight that followed him through the doorway, but even if he had he wouldn't have been surprised.

~xxx~

Gene arrived back in Simon's flat in time to see him backing fearfully out of the bathroom.

"_Gene!" _

Gene closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had a feeling that there were going to be several of these moments throughout the day.

"What?"

"_Soap!"_ jabbered Simon.

Gene scratched roughly at his head.

"Hope this isn't word association," he said.

"There was a _three-bar ambush_ in the bathroom!" Simon cried.

"Yes, Shoebury," Gene began, "That's because you had a fit of paranoia at half past twelve last night that yer soap was to dirty so you got out another bar to clean it with."

"And what about the third bar?"

"The second bar got dirty too." Gene rubbed his forehead. "And when the third bar got dirty… well, you were out of bloody granny-cleaner by that point so you used shower gel to wash that one instead."

Simon eyed him warily, unsure whether he was speaking the truth or not but he seemed to be serious. Finally he decided to relax about the triple-soap-attack.

"Ok," he said quietly, "fine."

Gene looked a little wary.

"Don't suppose you've been in yer bedroom yet then?" he asked.

Simon froze.

"Oh _god,"_ he cried, "what did I do in…." he paused for a moment then dashed away. A few moments later a blood-curdling scream emerged, followed by Simon returning to the lounge with his face as white as a sheet. "Listen, Gene, first of all, I don't even know where I could have got the lipstick from, and secondly, no matter what I wrote over the mirror I do _not_ love Bammo, neither do I want to dance the night away with him."

"I'll believe yer," Gene told him, "Thousands wouldn't."

Simon pressed his hand to his throbbing forehead. This was the worst beginning to a year he'd ever known.

"I think I need a lie down," he whimpered and sloped off.

As far as Simon was concerned, the repeat of 1997 wasn't exactly starting off on a high note.


	65. Chapter 34, 2012: Darkness Falls

_**A/N: I think notifications are starting to work again now! Thank goodness for that, I didn't relish the thought of having to do another song and dance routine. I might have done a poetry recital or something though. Still, always next time… Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading, enjoying and especially reviewing – I really enjoy hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're sticking with this story x**_

_**On a serious note, this chapter involves dark themes covered in previous fics in this series and is quite grim in places. I'm sorry for the length of this chapter but it just flowed out, it wouldn't have seemed right to break it up.**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 34: 2012**

Kim lost track of how long she had been sitting at the kitchen table in silence. The whole night had passed and she hadn't slept. She hadn't even tried. She didn't dare. In the moments after re-watching the start of Keats's episode of_ Dispatches_ she found herself desperate for a way out, begging silently to wake up from this nightmare. But it was real. As real as anything.

She'd tiptoed back into her room and sat beside the bed, staring at Robin in the dim light as he slept for the longest time. She stared at his face, studied his features, watched the man she'd spent every day and night beside for the last half a year as he lay there, ignorant of the most terrible, god-awful secret that he didn't even know he kept inside of him. Silent rivers of tears ran uninterrupted down her cheeks which she scarcely bothered to wipe away. She'd never noticed a resemblance before, but then again she hadn't exactly been looking. She supposed now the seeds of terrible suspicion had been planted it was clear to see some similarities there; the dark hair and eyes, some of their features… Robin was younger of course, by a fair way, but now that she'd seen it she couldn't wipe it from her thoughts.

She tried to recall the image of the man in the photograph being held as evidence against Layton for the crimes committed by Keats when he awoke in his body, the one the nurse had thought was the same as the man in Robin's photograph. _Was_ it the same man? Was there still a chance she was jumping to the most horrible of conclusions?

She remembered Robin's description of Keats's wild and angry response when he saw the photograph of his father. Robin had never been able to work out what made him react so violently; trashing his room, vomiting on the floor and ceasing his horrific intentions. Suddenly his reaction made some sense. From his own point of view Keats would have been just as horrified by such a discovery, although for extremely different reasons. She cast her mind back to some of the cryptic messages he used to try to taunt Simon with after he'd returned to the nineties. _Shit_, why the fuck did everything have to make so much more sense in this context?

When she could stand to stare at him no longer she'd walked around and around the flat, trying desperately to straighten out her thoughts but now she found herself subjected to flashbacks; images of Keats and his abuse of her back in Gene's world. Flashes from the times he'd used a terrible mix of drugs, gas and hypnosis of some sort to use her for his immoral purposes. As the memories plagued her once again she cried endlessly; having spent so many years trying to get over his actions now they were coming back with the force of a ten ton truck and she couldn't escape them.

When Robin found her sitting at the kitchen table just after half past six that morning her skin seemed grey, ashen, and her eyes glassy.

"Kim?" he drew close to her, worried by her appearance, "what's the matter?"

The moment she looked up and saw him a terrible lump rose into her throat. She swallowed to fight back the nausea that welled inside of her.

"Nothing," she said quickly, "I'm fine."

"God, Kim, you don't _look_ it," Robin had rarely seen her looking so drawn. He immediately reached out to touch her arm comfortingly but to his shock and upset she pulled back quickly and got to her feet.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I'm fine, really. I just didn't sleep well that's all." She backed away to the kitchen door, "I'd better get showered and dressed."

Before Robin could say a word she'd made her exit, leaving him anxious and hurt by her strange reaction. He stared after her as though expecting her to return, apologise and explain what the matter was but a moment later he heard the shower running and knew that she'd be occupied for a while. He felt his heart sinking. He couldn't understand the strange behaviour Kim had displayed, it just wasn't like her. The night before, everything had been fine. Was it something to do with what he'd told her? Did she think differently about him now that she knew about what happened to his mother? The night before she'd been such a comfort, her warm arms bringing him the kind of safety that he'd always longed to feel. How had that changed overnight?

He tried to push his worries out of his mind. Maybe he was overreacting. If Kim really hadn't slept well then perhaps she was just a little out of sorts and too tired to realise how she'd seemed. He knew that when he was sleep deprived he wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs to be around so it made sense. Maybe she wasn't well? She _had_ seemed really stressed or under the weather lately.

He tried to eat breakfast but his heart wasn't in it. Finally Kim returned from the bathroom. Her smile was awkward and very much unlike her.

"Kim, are you _sure_ you're alright?" Robin didn't want to push her but he couldn't stop worrying.

"I'm OK," she said quietly, her voice strained, "I told you. I'm tired."

Robin bit his lip nervously. He tried to change the subject.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked quietly.

Kim's stomach was still rolling from her suspicions. She wasn't sure she could ever eat again.

"No thank you," she said quietly.

"It might make you feel better," Robin suggested but she interrupted him crossly.

"I told you, I'm fine. I don't want anything to eat. I just want to get to work, OK?"

Robin swallowed as he drew back a little. He had no idea how to handle Kim's sudden change of demeanour. He took a deep breath and reached for his keys.

"Alright," he said quietly, "alright, Kim. Let's just go then."

He watched as she grasped her bag and walked to the door, barely meeting his eye. As she went he could feel his heart starting to break. Something had changed, seemingly in a moment, and he had no idea how to put it right.

~xXx~

Alex awoke to an empty flat. With both Robin and Kim working on the bank holiday she found she had the place to herself. She'd thought that they would both be at home so that day on her schedule was pretty much open, expect for some planned ranting about the pointlessness of the day itself. And where was the point in ranting about it when she had no one to rant about it _with?_

She started by enjoying the peace and quiet – eating a breakfast that didn't involve either a) baked beans or b) convincing Robin not to _cook_ baked beans; watching a little TV, taking a long bath without worrying about anyone needing an urgent bathroom visit – but as the morning came to a close she found herself getting a little bored.

She felt as though she was growing stale now. She had reached the point in her recovery where she was just itching to get going, not just to be back home with Gene but to be working, to get her mind back on the stimulation that she thrived on in her job. Even though she knew that her condition would prevent her from doing the job as she was used to she just wanted to get her mind active again.

Eventually she decided to distract herself with some internet browsing. After all, it would be one of the last opportunities she'd have before returning to snail-speed dial-up and Netscape. She found Kim's laptop in the lounge, certain that she wouldn't mind her borrowing it, and opened it up. She couldn't have been more disturbed than she was as images of Jim Keats began to play and she gave a horrified shriek, beating at the back button to get rid of the _Dispatches_ episode that she'd already head to watch once before. But to her further horror she managed instead to start playing another edition of the show.

_"DI March was a respected detective amongst his colleagues at Fenchurch East," a voice began, "he had built up an excellent reputation over the years and his conviction rate was exemplary… Until one day, in August two thousand and eleven, a cardboard cut-out of an infamous drug baron and the lure of a webcam proved to be his downfall…"_

It was like a car crash. She couldn't look away. She knew that no god was going to come of watching it but she just couldn't stop herself. She'd heard so much about DI March and his lewd act that there was a morbid curiosity growing inside of her and before she knew it she found herself staring at the screen, her face a mix of disgust and curiosity.

"_After evading capture for twenty years, the net was closing on on Nick Nailer, but he still managed to give police the run around. None more so than Detective Inspector March, a man for whom catching the dealer became a deeply layered obsession… an obsession that developed obscene undertones after a cardboard cut-out of the man was produced for a photo-shoot to mark his recapture after breaking out of prison…"_

Forty five minutes later, as the programme came to an end, Alex's skin was as white as a sheet. Having developed phobias of drug dealers, cardboard and a detective inspector that she had never even met she realised that there were some things about the twenty first century she was going to be very glad to escape when she found her way home.

Streaming TV online was not always a good idea, especially when it involved cardboard effigies of a dealer she knew only too well.

~xXx~

Kim's head was spinning. She'd been good for nothing all morning and now lunchtime had arrived she found herself getting in more and more of a state. She'd achieved nothing – no work at all. All she could think about was Robin and Keats. Every inch of her trembled with anguish as the possibility became more real in her mind. She had to get out of this limbo. She needed to know for certain one way or the other and there seemed only one way to find out.

With a shaking hand she reached for the phone on her desk and dialled a familiar extension. As she heard Robin's voice on the line a lump travelled to her throat and refused to go away. she swallowed hard before she began quietly,

"Rob? It's me. Look, I'm… I'm really sorry about this morning. You're right, I'm not feeling well. I'm going to go home and go to bed. …No, that's OK, I'm going to walk. I could do with the air. Honestly, Rob, I'll be fine. I'll see you later. Bye."

She hung up, feeling enormously guilty both for her lie and for her intentions, then got to her feet to make the same excuses to her DCI who assumed she'd been overdoing things at the new year and had an extended hangover. Kim played along, took an unfair admonishing and ran along, but she didn't head home, at least not yet. There was another department she needed to visit first.

~xXx~

"This is highly unusual procedure, Detective inspector," the snooty woman told her as she Kim asked again for what she needed.

"Look, it's important we review the evidence," Kim lied forcefully, "I just need the photograph. The one Layton had on him of a young couple."

"Evidence ID number?" the woman asked.

"I don't have it with me," Kim cried, "Honestly, are you going to give me the photograph or do I have to get my DCI down here to remind you of your job?"

The snooty woman scowled at Kim, but finally relented and disappeared for several minutes. She came back with an evidence bag and so many forms for Kim to wade through that she felt like she'd wasted half a rainforest.

"_Thank_ you," she said finally with a glare, then made a big show of storming away. She knew what she was doing was wrong and she had no right to be taking out that evidence, let alone removing it from the premises but it was the only way to know.

X

The walk back to the flat seemed twice as long as usual. Maybe because she was walking so slowly. Maybe because her thoughts were so turbulent that they just wouldn't stop. Finally she arrived home, the evidence safely hidden away in her bag. She closed the front door slowly behind her and walked through the hallway where she found Alex sitting in the kitchen, looking almost as bad as she felt.

"Ma'am?" she frowned, "are you OK?"

"I _will_ be once I've made a strongly worded complaint to Dispatches," Alex told her. She noticed Kim's pallor and concern crossed her face. "Kim? What's wrong?"

"Just… got a migraine," Kim held her head. It wasn't a million miles away from the truth. Her head felt fuzzy and fully of cotton and all she wanted to do was to lay down and sleep forever. "I'm going to go to bed. I'm fine, really. I just need some sleep."

"Are you sure?" Alex asked.

Kim nodded.

"I'll see you later," she said quietly, slowly walking to her bedroom and closing the door behind her.

Once inside she pulled the evidence from her bag and studied the photograph. The young couple in the picture looked fairly miserable. She focused her attention on the man as dark hair and deep dark eyes stared back at her. She turned it over in her hands and read the words that sent fear through her heart.

_Mum and Dad, 1971_

The handwriting was familiar. It had been years since she'd seen it but she remembered it well from the illicit notes and messages that would drop through her door or find their way to her desk. Only Keats could write so meticulously.

She dropped to her knees beside Robin's bedside cabinet and lifted the frame displaying the photograph of his mother. Her heart raced and her palms grew damp as she turned it around and began to open up the back. One by one she pulled back the notches that kept the backing in place until there were none left to keep the frame together.

One deep breath. Two. Three.

They didn't help. They didn't stop her stomach from churning and her fingers from shaking. But she had to know. She had to see, so she forced herself onward.

Carefully she took away the backing of the frame and, with one last deep breath, took a look at the second half of the photo; the part that Robin kept folded away, out of sight.

In one split second three things happened simultaneously. Her eyes closed, her heart broke and her world fell to pieces.

A silent scream welled up inside of her and an irresistible wave of nausea washed over her that sent her running to the bathroom where she bent over the toilet bowl and purged herself of little but coffee and bile. A stream of tears were already starting to fall from her eyes and every muscle in her body started twitching with horror as her mind tried to process the truth; the god-awful truth that she'd so cruelly found connecting the man who made her love her life and the one who almost destroyed it.

"Kim?"

_Shit. _

"_Im OK,"_ Kim kept her voice level as she tried desperately not to let Alex see the utter state that she was in, "I'm sorry. Sometimes migraines make me throw up."

"It sounds like it must be a bad one," Alex's voice reflected her worry, "can I get you anything? Tablets? Water?"

Kim took several deep breaths as she leaned against the toilet, desperately trying to fight another wave as the image of the two photographs plagued her mind. Finally she said weakly.

"No, ma'am, honestly, I'm alright. I just… just need to go back to bed… to go and lie down. I'll be fine later."

There was a pause as Alex tried to assess if Kim really was alright or if she needed help before she finally said,

"Alright, but if you need anything –"

"Thank you," Kim whispered weakly, "but I'm alright. Honestly."

She waited and listened as Alex's footsteps moved away from the bathroom door and retreated somewhere else inside the flat. It took several moments before Kim's legs stopped trembling for long enough to stand upright and to clean herself up. As she stared at her reflection she saw just how haunted and haggard she looked. She wasn't surprised. She didn't know how she was ever going to hide her anguish from Robin, or how she was ever going to look at him again.

Her life was in pieces.

She finally flushed and washed her hands, before making her way slowly back to the bedroom where she closed the door behind her. The two photos were waiting to greet her, almost side by side.

Same man. Same eyes. Same hair. Same features.

"_Oh god,"_ she whispered with another stream of tears beginning to fall from her reddening eyes. She couldn't handle this. How was this possible? It wasn't – it just wasn't. But the evidence was right there before her.

As quickly as she could she replaced the back of the frame and stood it back beside the bed, then put the evidence back in her bag where she sealed it away_, out of sight out of mind_. But of course, it didn't work that way. She crawled into bed feeling like a lost child, sobbing the hours away until she finally passed out from emotional exhaustion.; the only sleep she was likely to get and filled with nightmares and flashbacks.

One day and two photographs had changed everything.

~xXx~

Kim slept fitfully for some time until Robin returned home from work. torn between her own anguish and the need to keep it from Robin, lest the truth destroy him, she knew she had no choice but to act as normally as possible. Feigning the aftermath of a migraine, she at least had an excuse for being spaced out and quiet.

She did her best to tidy herself up and made an effort to emerge from the bedroom where she found Alex anxiously telling Robin that she was concerned for her welfare.

"Thanks, ma'am, but I'm doing much better," she tried to force a smile.

Robin's expression was worried and yet relieved to see her in one piece.

"Kim, you got me really worried for a minute there," he said quietly, "are you _sure_ you're OK?"

As he stepped towards her and she felt the onset of a comforting hug or a kiss she quickly moved towards the table and sat down to avoid his embrace.

"Just feeling really delicate and fragile, that's all," she said quietly, "maybe I need something to eat and an early night. I'll be fine tomorrow."

In truth the last thing she felt like doing was eating but if she could persuade Robin to busy himself in the kitchen rather than looking after her then she could avoid him for as long as possible. Her plan worked fairly well too as Robin became embroiled in creating a culinary masterpiece that Kim did her best to force down, even though with every mouthful she felt as though she was swallowing broken glass. She ate in near silence, concentrating on trying to get as much of the food down as she could before she felt as though she was going to see it all come up again and she excused herself, saying she still had a little nausea from her migraine. It wasn't the biggest lie. Her head thumped and her stomach flopped over and over every time she looked at Robin.

She barely made it through the evening, watching the TV in silence and finally disappearing for an early night. When Robin followed her to bed a few minutes later she pretended she was already asleep so that she wouldn't have to converse or justify her behaviour but as she felt his arms wrap around her she shuddered and quickly moved away. Instantly she cursed herself and regretted it.

"Kim, what's wrong?" he asked, the worry evident in his voice.

"Nothing," she said quietly, pretending she was still half asleep, "I was just sleeping, that's all, and you made me jump."

"I'm still worried about you," he said softly, his fingers running down her back, but instead of bringing her comfort they brought shockwaves and flashbacks. Images of Keats flashed through her mind. She quickly pulled the duvet around her and shrugged him away.

"I just want to sleep, Robin," she said quietly.

Her cold tone and her behaviour shocked Robin more than he could pro cess. Cautiously he drew back his hand and sat back up slowly in bed.

"I only wanted to make you feel better," he whispered.

Tears filled Kim's eyes as she tried to keep her voice steady.

"I need to get some sleep, Robin," she whispered, "Goodnight."

She closed her eyes tightly and let the tears roll silently onto the pillow as she faced away from Robin. For some time he didn't move, nor did he speak. Then finally she felt him move downward into the bed but slightly away from her as he whispered,

"Whatever I've done… I'm sorry, Kim."

She held herself stiffly as she felt his lips press a gentle hiss against her shoulder, a kiss that made her whole body lock up with anguish that she just couldn't cope with, until finally she felt him move away again and lay his head beside her. Her tears continued to fall in silence with guilt now joining her array of turbulent emotions. The secret was tearing her apart and now _she_ was tearing _Robin_ apart too.

_There are some secrets in life,_ she realised, _that are best kept hidden._

~xXx~

Again and again the nightmares came. Physically exhausted from all the tears and the shock of her discovery, Kim had finally fallen asleep but all that she saw in her mind were flashes of Keats, over and over again; all the times that he stared her in the eye, took her over, made her feel that she wanted him, made her believe that she wanted what was happening. Over and over again she dreamed of his face, that smile, the one that he used to convince her that he would help her that she needed him, that he was the only one who would help her get home.

And then the abuse, the violence; tying her up and abandoning her in her crusty little house in a world far away; the kick to her stomach that brought about her miscarriage, her abduction upon his brief return to the real world via Layton as he held her down and hacked away at her hair –

- Her awakening from the nightmare was sudden and as violent as the images her mind had played again and again. Her chest was rising and falling but she couldn't seem to breathe properly. There was pain in her head and pain in her heart. She turned to Robin, sleeping in bed beside her, thankful that she hadn't awoken him. The back of his head faced her. Where so many nights she'd seen that dark hair and felt comfort at knowing he was close by it now tortured her; a reminder of the genetic background that he had no idea he shared.

Her insides churned and her mind raced. She couldn't handle it. She didn't know how to cope. She found herself fleeing the room before she even knew what was happening and ran to the kitchen where she switched on the light and ran to the sink, just to give her something to focus on. She clutched the side of it, trying to work on her breathing but the oxygen just wouldn't fill her lungs.

"Oh _god,"_ she whispered, "Why? Why is this happening?"

She panted for air and found more tears cascading down her face but this time she couldn't keep them quiet and a desperate sob emerged from her lips.

"_Kim?"_

As Kim turned around and saw a terribly worried Alex standing at the doorway, draped in her robe, she had never felt so grateful to see another person in all her life. Kim prided herself on being strong and looking after herself, never needing anyone to lean on, but every inch of her was crumbling fast. Involuntarily she ran; ran towards Alex like a terrified child who'd been lost in the supermarket, then threw her head against her as her sobbing grew louder and harder to control.

"_Kim?"_ Alex hissed again, "My god, what's happened?"

The change of behaviour in her friend was so shocking that she couldn't comprehend what was going on. It took her a few moments to know how to react. She couldn't remember ever seeing Kim cry. Finally she wrapped her arms around her and held her while she wept, letting out all of the fear and the anguish that had been building since the night before.

It seemed as though Kim's crying would never come to an end but finally it began to slow just a little, enough for Alex to move away from the door and close it gently behind them. She led Kim towards the table and sat her down as gently as possible before she asked.

"Can you tell me what's wrong, Kim?"

Kim wasn't sure she could. She wasn't sure she could find the words.

"_Robin,"_ she whispered.

"What? Is he alright?" Alex couldn't work out what could have happened since bedtime, "Is he ill, or… you had a fight…?"

Kim shook her head in silence. She tried hard to steady her breathing long enough to speak but it came forth in fits and bursts, interspersed with sobs and hiccups.

"No, ma'am," she whispered, "it's… nothing… like that…"

"Then what's happened?" Alex held her shoulders and looked at her seriously. "Kim, you've got me really worried now. What's happened to Robin?"

Kim's bloodshot, terrified eyes finally rose to meet Alex's.

"I found something out," she whispered.

"What?" Alex couldn't begin to imagine what could be so bad, "he's not cheating on you? Or… or he really _is_ pregnant…?"

Kim shook her head.

"No, no," she whispered, gulping for breath.

"Then _what?"_ Alex hesitated but Kim didn't reply. "I can't imagine what else would have caused you to get in such a state."

Kim wiped her eyes roughly on her sleeve. She took a deep breath and worked hard on composing herself.

"I found something out about his family," she whispered, "about his father."

Alex hadn't been expecting that. She knew that, in the nineties, Jeffrey Thomas would be locked away for a long time yet but in the real world Robin's father was never caught.

"What's happened?" she asked gently, "has there been news? A sighting?"

Kim shook her head.

"It's nothing like that."

"Then what?"

Kim gulped back another wave of tears.

"Simon's not the only one whose genetics are coming out of the woodwork," she whispered.

"What are you trying to tell me?" Alex wasn't following this at all, "Gene's got more illegitimate children travelling through time?"

"_No!"_

"Then tell me. Just tell me, Kim. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

But the look in Kim's eyes told her she was wrong.

"Rob's got a half-brother he doesn't know anything about," she whispered.

Alex wished she could gather her thoughts. Her sleep-addled brain was making it difficult to work out what Kim meant.

"Who?" she asked. The crumbling of Kim's face led her to worry even more "Is it someone I know."

"Oh yes," Kim said bitterly, "You know him. We _all_ know him."

Alex's eyes were wide and focused upon Kim's tearful face. She was about to ask again for her to just tell her who it was but there was something about Kim's deep distress that struck a chord with her. A fleeting wonder passed through her mind but she couldn't imagine how that would even be possible, and then she remembered Kim's laptop; the programme showing when she'd borrowed it earlier. Why had Kim been watching the damned Keats' programme? It just… it couldn't have been, though –

"Oh…. Oh, Kim, _no…"_ Alex found her instinct kicking in and despite the seeming impossibility of the truth she couldn't imagine anyone else that would be causing her such deep distress, "please tell me it's not true. You can't mean it. It can't be him."

Kim swallowed. She didn't know if Alex was thinking of the right person and still couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Who?"

The word burned Alex like acid.

"_Keats."_

Kim didn't need to say anything. The turning downward of her stare, the tears that fell, her desperate scramble for breath as her anguish rose again all told her that the very worst option was true. Alex found her head shaking. She couldn't believe it. It couldn't have been true. It just couldn't be real.

"No, Kim, there's a mistake…"

Kim shook her head slowly.

"There's proof, ma'am," she whispered, "I've got proof. Photographs… Rob's parents and Keats's parents. They have the same father."

"It…. Could just be someone who looks alike and –"

"With the same name? Same year of birth? Same occupation?" Kim shook her head, unable to look Alex in the eye, "I've been over and over this and tried to convince myself it's not true." She swallowed as the dark truth overcame her again. "But it is."

"But Kim, I don't understand, Alex felt her chest tightening, "how did you even find this _out?_ What made you even _look?"_

"Rob told me about his parents," Kim whispered, "two nights ago. He finally told me about his family. The name of his father… and some other stuff about him… it all sounded familiar." She took a deep breath. "I've seen that bloody _Dispatches_ more than once, Ma'am. I just watched it with Molly a couple of weeks ago. It was fresh in my mind or I'd never have remembered the details."

"And that's why you were watching it again?" Alex whispered. Kim's curious look made her blush. "Sorry, I borrowed your laptop… I was bored…" images of cardboard cut outs filled her mind and she shuddered. "That's not a mistake I'm going to be making again."

Kim didn't even ask. Her mind was occupied with more serious matters.

"Ma'am, what the fuck am I going to do?" she whispered, "I can't tell Rob, this will kill him. But I can't keep it to myself, it's not right, and he should know… how… how would I even go about _saying_ something like that? How could I ever…" she trailed away as the sheer magnitude of the discovery started to weigh heavily upon her again.

"He does need to know, Kim," Alex said gently, "as hard as it is and as difficult as it will be for both of you, you need to tell him."

"It'll _destroy_ him."

"He already knows _something's_ wrong. I could see your body language around him last night – it was completely different, and _he_ could see that too. He knows that there's something going on and if you don't tell him the truth who knows what he'll think."

"And that's another thing," Kim whispered, choking on her words, "I… I can't…. I can't look at him the same any more." She hung her head and felt her face burning up. It seemed so selfish. "Every time I look at him I-I see Keats staring back."

Alex's heart began to break for her. She knew what Kim had been through at the hands of Keats. She'd had first-hand experience of it too.

"Kim," she said gently, "Robin is not Keats."

"I know, I _know,_" Kim found it hard to express what was going through her mind, "but every time I look at him I just…. I just picture that stare… those eyes. That smile. The way he forced his way inside my head." Her eyes were terrified and she looked like a lost child all over again. "What if… what if that's what this has all been about?"

"All what?"

"Falling in love with Robin," Kim's voice trembled. It was the first time that she'd even used the L word in front of another person. "What if it's… it's just something left over from what Keats did… the hold he had over me? What if it's something genetic? Like he reprogramed my head and I –"

"Kim, _stop,"_ Alex said bluntly, "do not even _think_ that. You already know that's stupid."

"But it's never made sense to me how it was possible, ma'am."

"Love _doesn't_ make sense!" Alex reminded her, "In five days' time I'm travelling two hundred miles to try to find my way back to the past to be with someone who died decades ago! Does _that_ make sense?" she could see from Kim's expression that she understood. "And what about Robin? Do you think Keats scrambled _his_ brain too? To make him mysteriously fall in love with a member of the opposite sex?"

Kim looked down a little.

"No," she whispered.

"Kim, I've been staying with you both for the last month," Alex said quietly, "and I've seen the way the two of you are together. It's true, you don't have a normal relationship. But then, what _is_ normal?" she paused. "You've got something much stronger. Because you've both been through so much to get there. I watch the two of you and it's like watching Gene and I, except with a few more tattoos and complex sexuality issues." She paused. "When you were in ninety five. Being with Keats. How did that make you feel?"

A horrible burning nausea rose inside of Kim.

"Weak," she whispered, "helpless. Powerless. Angry." She shook her head slowly. _"Used."_

"And being with Robin," Alex said quietly, "how does that make you feel?"

Despite everything, the glint in Kim's eye at the mention of Robin was clear to see.

"Alive," she whispered, "happy. Strong." Her eyes closed and her voice broke up. "In love."

"What you feel for Robin," Alex told her, "is nothing to do with Keats and whatever he did to you. It is there in _spite_ of Keats. And you have to fight the memory of him. You came _through_ that. You pulled your life back together. You put that behind you. He already tried to ruin your life once. Don't let him do it again."

Kim nodded silently. Alex's words made perfect sense.

"There are some perks to having a psychologist in the house," she joked feebly, but her face fell again immediately and she whispered, "Ma'am? There's… there's another part to this I don't understand." She closed her eyes. "What does this mean? I mean, after the DNA testing… Simon and Gene…" she shook her head crossly, "it… it can't just all be a massive coincidence… I keep feeling like this is some kind of awful, agonising fated thing, like… " she shook her head again, "I don't know. The chances… the chances of it… blood relations…. Gene and Simon, Robin and Keats…"

Alex could understand what Kim was trying to say, even if her words were jumbled and confused.

"I know," she whispered, "I understand what you mean but I don't have any answers." She felt her own stomach starting to churn, "and to be honest, I haven't even started to process the thought of Gene and Simon and the DNA results yet. I keep trying to push it out of my mind," she looked away awkwardly, "I feel like I need to speak to Gene before I can work out how I feel. I feel like _he_ needs to know and come to terms with it before I, or anyone else, can pass judgement on it."

"I understand," Kim said quietly.

Alex rubbed her forehead as it started to throb.

"But," she whispered, "it's true. I can't… can't deny that there's more to it than a coincidence."

"Like some kind of repeating pattern," Kim whispered. She looked at Alex. "Could… could this be anything to do with how come Simon and Robin went over together when no one had ever done that before?"

"I don't know," Alex shook her head slowly, "I have no idea, Kim."

"So many fucking questions," Kim put her head in her hands as Alex watched her in concern.

"Kim," she said quietly, "this might sound like a stupid question, considering, but…" she sighed, "are you alright? Are you _going_ to be alright?"

Kim stared at a blank spot on the wall.

"I don't know," she whispered. She chewed anxiously on her lip. "Shit, what the _hell_ do I do, ma'am? What am I supposed to tell him?"

"I don't know," Alex shook her head slowly, "But somehow you're going to have to." She paused, "or _we_ will."

Kim glanced at her gratefully.

"You'll be there?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"If you want me to be."

Kim looked down. She wasn't sure yet. She had no idea how best to approach it.

"Thanks ma'am," she whispered, "I appreciate that." She exhaled loudly and tried to work through her thoughts. "But right now I think… I think I need to come to terms with this a little more. Before I can work out how to approach it."

Alex nodded.

"I understand," she said, "but please, _please_ don't leave it too long. He needs to know."

Kim nodded. She knew Alex was right, as much as it hurt to think of breaking the shock to Robin, however she chose to do so.

"I know," she whispered.

"And, Kim?"

"Hmm?

Alex looked at her seriously.

"Remember what I said. Robin is _not_ Keats. It took you eight years to stop that monster from eating away at your life. Don't let him back in now."

Kim hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she whispered, "thank you for everything. And, I'm sorry."

"What for?"

Kim felt her face turning red.

"Crying like a girl."

"You _are_ a girl," Alex reminded her.

"Even so," Kim glanced around, "can we keep the crying bit between ourselves?"

Alex couldn't help but smile.

"Your secret is safe," she whispered.

To her surprise she found herself wrapped up in a thankful, warm hug from her friend before she watched Kim slowly get to her feet and wipe her eyes.

"Goodnight, Ma'am," she whispered.

Alex nodded with a smile.

"Goodnight, Kim," she whispered.

As she watched her leave the room she began to feel her own trepidation building. Now that she was alone, the full impact of Kim's discovery was starting to dawn on her and she felt her skin crawl as she realised how serious the shock news actually was. There were wider implications stemming from this, she knew that for certain. What she wasn't prepared to consider yet was exactly what they would be – for Robin, for Kim, for Keats or for herself and Gene.

~xXx~

Kim's footsteps were slow and deliberate as she walked back into the bedroom. She wasn't sure how Robin managed to stay asleep through her emotional exit from the room and tearful conversation with Alex in the kitchen. She was just grateful that he hadn't awoken. She wasn't ready to have that conversation with him, not yet.

She moved a little closer and slipped back into bed. She stared at the back of his head, his floppy, dark hair laying across the pillow beside her. Her fingers gently reached forward and moved his fringe away from his face. Alex had been right. Robin _wasn't_ Keats. No shared genetics were going to alter that. Keats had almost destroyed her life and Robin had been the one to eventually help her rebuild it.

"_Robin,"_ she whispered as her fingers slowly moved down his cheek and across his shoulder.

There would be more nightmares and flashbacks. She knew that. There would be moments of her time in the nineties replaying, where those evil eyes would be fixed upon her, driving her to succumb to his carnal desires and forcing her to believe she wanted it too. But Keats's abuse was in the past, alive only in memories and nightmares.

It was _Robin_ whose smile greeted her every morning, _Robin_ whose banter made her feel alive, _Robin_ whose touch turned her body like fire, _Robin_ who she wanted to share her life with. And whatever the connection between them, she had to fight the temptation to let the thought of those shared genetics spoil the best thing in her life.

As her fingers traced the pattern of the tattoo on Robin's shoulder he began to stir and awaken with a mumble and a groan of confusion.

"Hmmm? Kim, what –"

"_Shhh,"_ she whispered as she cupped his face and gently closed her lips over his own. She needed to feel that warmth and safely; the feeling that only Robin could give her. She needed to remind herself of what they had and why it was so special. She didn't care that it was some god-awful hour of the night, or that the problem would still be there in the morning; for the time being all she needed was to feel the warmth of Robin's body against her own and to remember that this was _not_ the cruel and evil man who'd come so close to destroying her forever - this was the man that she loved and had been to hell and back to be with.

Until morning, nothing else mattered. In the cold light of day she would once again confront the awful truth she had uncovered. But for now, she knew what she needed to feel safe once again from the intimate touch of the one person who'd brought her to life once again, and it was time to reach out and take it.


	66. Chapter 34, 1997: Heavens Above

_**A/N: Sorry for this shortish chapter; for the next few chapters there's more going on in 2012 than 1997 and then the focus swaps over. Also, I just wanted to say I know that there's a lot of dark and heavy stuff at the moment – bear with me, you know from the past things don't stay that way forever!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 34: 1997**

Simon was still suffering from the dregs of a hangover as he went to work the following day. He'd spent much of New Year's Day freaking out about things he discovered he had done while under the influence of alcohol and hearing Gene's rendition of whatever havoc he'd managed to cause. There had apparently been a prank call to Eddie at one point that Simon wasn't looking forward to facing the consequences of.

He'd noticed that Gene had become increasingly subdued over the course of the day. He wasn't expecting him to be in high spirits but even for Gene he seemed to be reflecting a lot on his life without Alex. Simon hadn't heard any mention of pubs, moving on or going for last orders but it still worried him.

He felt sluggish and stale as he arrived at work that morning. Between the unhealthy food and drink he'd consumed over the festive period and the heavy onset of the _'Christmas is Over'_ feeling Simon's own spirits weren't exactly at their highest that morning. He hung up his jacket and sheepishly apologised to Eddie for any phone calls he may or may not have received over the new year about what his _staple diet_ might have been, then began to tackle the pile of toaster-related documents that had built up on his desk since new year's eve.

He barely noticed at first. He thought it was light reflecting from outside, maybe glinting off of a moving car. The second time it happened he glanced up for just a moment in a slightly annoyed manner. But the third time the flash of light caught his eye he had no choice but to pay it proper attention.

The moment his eyes rose to the ceiling his heart stopped in his chest. Starlight glowed around the top of the room, growing and swirling with every moment that passed by.

"_What the…?"_ Simon breathed, his mouth falling open. He'd seen snatches of starlight before but this was different. In the past it had been a fleeting glimpse; a smattering of light that passed in a moment. But now the stars were bright and bold on the darkest of skies that had no right to be there – indoors, by day.

His brain began to race. What the hell was going _on?_ There were several reasons the stars passed by – he'd seen them when something bizarre had skipped between time zones, or when the world had been under threat of falling apart from somebody leaving the station and defecting to Fenchurch West – himself included. But this? This just seemed… different. Stranger. _Darker. _

"_Gene,"_ he hissed.

He found himself scrambling to his feet and racing down the corridor towards CID where he found Gene at his desk, just where he'd expect him to be, latte in hand. He looked up with a slight foam moustache, surprised and somewhat annoyed by Simon's rushed and frantic entrance and cried,

"Bloody hell, Shoebury, I know you're a nerd but you can leave the warp-speed to the experts."

"Gene," Simon anted breathlessly, "there were stars."

Gene wiped the foam from his top lip with the back of his sleeve and slowly got to his feet.

"I don't see any," he said.

"Well, they're not _here,"_ Simon looked up to check, "they were in my office."

Gene seemed more uninterested than Simon had ever seen him.

"Maybe you're about to get a special delivery from two thousand and bollocks," he said, "I keep getting Stringer's pen pots."

"I'm serious, Gene, this isn't any of your _time ravelling turkey_ nonsense, this is the real thing," his eyes were frantic and Gene realised that Simon had obviously seen something a little more severe than the smattering of starlight that had swirled around the strange occurrences of late. He looked at him seriously for the first time and said,

"Not planning on going anywhere, are you Shoebury?"

"No, _I'm_ not," Simon said crossly, "are _you?"_

"Just bought a _Supersize Latte Supreme,"_ Gene told him, sinking back into his seat, "you expect me to leave that unfinished?"

"I'm _serious,"_ Simon took a lunge towards Gene's desk which even Gene had to admit he found a little unnerving, "a couple of days ago you were talking about getting in a round, and now there are stars on the ceiling."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"In body," Simon said pointedly.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean, Shoe-boy?"

Simon rolled his eyes.

"You don't want to have a conversation so the_ Shoe_ jokes make a comeback?" he cried, "Gene, listen to me – you're still here, yeah – but your heart isn't. Your soul isn't. Your _spirit_ isn't."

"Me spirits are in the filing cabinet where I always keep them," Gene told him.

"Stop avoiding the subject," Simon told him sternly.

Gene stared at Simon. Usually he'd have him beaten in a staring contest, no problem. But today? Today it all seemed like far too much bother. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought about those spirits in his filing cabinet. As soon as he'd managed to get rid of Simon he'd be helping himself to a large measure.

"Listen, Shoebury," he began in a surprisingly measured tone for Gene, "I'm still here. Me body's at me desk. As for the rest, I'm working on that. But if there are stars then it's nothing to do with me. I'm not off to set up camp in Jimbo's basement. I'm not passing through the door of the pub and getting a round in. After yer new year moping maybe the stars are coming from somewhere a little closer to home." He raised an eyebrow. "They were on _your_ ceiling, Shoe-boy."

"_Don't_ bring back _Shoe-Boy,"_ Simon snapped, but Gene did have a point. They were on _his_ ceiling. Did that mean anything? He wasn't sure how the whole _starlight_ thing worked at the best of times. He found himself taking a step backwards, both literally and metaphorically as he thought about it. Maybe he was as much at fault as Gene. He wasn't exactly relishing his role. Did that make enough of a difference? Exactly whose fault _was_ the planetarium on his ceiling?

"Just…" he swallowed as he tried to work out what to say. "Just… keep talking to me, Gene. OK?" he looked at him seriously, "I don't want you to do anything stupid."

"Like washing yer soap?" Gene commented but he knew what Simon meant. He shook his head. "Look, Simon, me latte's getting cold and I've got mug shots to show to a traumatised granny. Can you leave me to wallow in peace?"

Simon hesitated. He wasn't sure about leaving Gene alone but finally nodded.

"Alright," he said quietly. He walked back towards the door. "I'll see you later," he mumbled and finally left him alone.

As soon as he left, Gene found himself breathing a sigh of relief. As he exhaled he refused to let himself acknowledge how close to the mark Simon's observations had been. The more thoughts of the pub dominated Gene's considerations, the more his world started to wobble around him. He was a long way from making any firm decisions but his self-set deadline was looming and his mind wasn't changing.

As he put his Styrofoam cup to his lips and practically inhaled half of his latte he felt the darkness above him and closed his eyes so that he didn't have to acknowledge the stars that decorated the dark expanse.


	67. Chapter 35, 2012: Last Lattes

**Chapter 35: 2012**

Drained, exhausted and shattered, Kim caught Robin's eye over the breakfast table and the cheekiest smile overcame her face. His own expression reflected what he saw on hers and he looked away slightly coyly. Stupid as it sounded, even now the physical side of their relationship was so alien to them that they felt shy about it from time to time.

Alex's arrival in the kitchen caused them both to blush and to grin slightly cheekily at each other, a gesture Alex wasn't going to miss. She'd had her fair share of exchanged glances with Gene the morning after a particularly _interesting_ night and recognised those kinds of expression well. She raised an eyebrow at Kim as she walked towards the kettle to make herself a drink.

"Good morning," she said, "You two look… _tired."_

Kim coughed slightly as she tried to eat some cereal that she really wasn't interested in. She was exhausted, thoroughly exhausted. It was a little more than the_ aerobic activity _that had taken over the latter part of the night in her case though. The whole of the last two days and their high level of emotion had taken a toll on her and she was running on empty.

Robin scooped up his last spoonful of cornflakes and got to his feet.

"I'd better get in the shower before work," he said, exchanging one last glance with Kim before he left with a slightly shy kiss on her cheek.

Alex watched Kim curiously as she turned her eyes downward, giving a distant smile either to herself or her cornflakes, it was hard to tell which.

"Well?" she prompted.

Kim glanced up, biting her lip in a very Robin-like way.

"Well what?" she asked innocently.

"I can't help but notice your behaviour has changed somewhat since the middle of the night," Alex raised an eyebrow again as she joined Kim at the table.

Kim looked down slightly awkwardly. It was difficult to express how she was feeling and what had changed.

"Please don't get me wrong, ma'am. It's not that this isn't still the hardest shock possible… It's not that I'm not thinking about it," She said quietly, "it's not like I can put it out of my head. But you were right."

"I was?" Alex wasn't sure what part she was right about.

Kim nodded.

"Rob's not _him," _she whispered, "and I needed to remind myself of that."

"It looks like you reminded yourself of that rather well," Alex couldn't help but notice, making Kim blush again. "It doesn't look like you got a lot of sleep." She waited for Kim's face to reach three shades darker before she stopped pushing her. "Oh come on, you and Simon teased me and Gene all the time."

"Only when we caught you in the stationery cupboard or witnessed the whole… Easter bunny… fancy dress thing," Kim told her. She played with her spoon as her expression took on a distant look. "It… it was _good,"_ she said quietly, "it was what I needed."

After her talk with Alex in the night Kim had found her thoughts a little more coherent. Being able to talk them through had helped no end but there was still something she needed desperately and that was to be with Robin, to remind her of exactly what they had together and that it didn't matter who shared any part of his genes; Robin wasn't Keats – nor was he his angry, violent father. He was a very different, unique, gentle man who had changed her life in myriad ways.

What started as a need to feel his kiss had soon turned into a desperate night of passion, desperate on _both_ sides if she was honest. She needed to be with him to remind her that this was Robin, the person she loved with all her being, not Keats, the man who had stolen a chunk of her will and her life for so long. From Robin's point of view, after Kim's strange behaviour the day before her sudden and desperate desire to be with him took away the fears that he'd been harbouring that she felt differently about him now that she knew about his father's violence and his mother's death, or the nagging feeling that he'd upset her in some way. It was every bit as raw and wild as their first time but seemed never to end until eventually the alarm was threatening to warn them that morning had arrived and it was time to leave their bed behind.

"Kim, I hate to bring this up," Alex said quietly, pulling her back out of her thoughts, "but have you thought any more about telling Robin what you know?"

Kim wished for the first time in her life that she was an ostrich. She just wanted to bury her head in the sand.

"No," she said quietly, "Ma'am, it's not that I'm trying to avoid it, but…. But I need time. I need to absorb this myself first so that I can be ready to help _Robin_ through it when he finds out the truth. At the moment I'm still…" she sighed and started to hang her head. Despite their desperate passion during the night she was still fighting the onset of flashbacks and memories, "I'm still struggling with this myself. I'm trying hard to fight it but…" she laid down her spoon. She supposed she wasn't going to be eating any more breakfast. "I need to make sure I'm in the right frame of mind to help him too. Does that make sense?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"Yes, Kim, it does," she said quietly.

Kim closed her eyes for a moment.

"This is going to destroy him, ma'am. I have to be there to help him through it however I can, but I have to help myself understand it first."

"That makes sense to me," Alex said quietly. She couldn't help her own thoughts turning to Gene and Simon, and trying to work out how she was going to break the news when she found her way home. That was going to be difficult enough and at least Simon and Gene usually got along. It wasn't like telling someone one they were related to the devil.

A few minutes later Robin emerged from the bathroom and immediately delved back into shy glance exchanges with Kim.

"Are you, uh, ready to go?" he asked.

Kim tiredly got to her feet. She'd had no sleep and the highly emotional days that had passed by had left her with little energy but the look on Robin's face took all that away, even if just for a while.

"I'm ready," she said with a smile.

Alex rolled her eyes and almost told them to get a room before she realised they were only grinning at each other. She groaned internally. She was missing Gene even more than she realised, and in many different ways. The pregnancy hormones weren't exactly helping in that respect either. She just had to focus on Manchester and getting home. With any luck by Saturday night, best case scenario, she'd be getting a _late night_ all of her own.

"Alex, is there anything you need before we go?"

Robin's question pulled her out of her daydream.

"No," she said, trying to keep a neutral face, "thanks, Robin. I'm…" she took a deep breath, "I'm seeing Molly today. We're going shopping."

Robin and Kim exchanged a glance.

"Your goodbye?" Kim asked quietly.

Alex nodded but tried to keep her face neural.

"At least I have the opportunity this time," she said stoically, "that's more than I ever thought I'd have."

Kim bit her lip.

"Are you OK?" she asked quietly.

Alex nodded. It was a lie. She knew it. Kim knew it. Robin knew it. But it was a part of her plan and she had to press on.

"Stop worrying about me and start thinking about how you're both going to get through the day without falling asleep," she said as she watched them moving out of the kitchen. She frowned. "Kim, you… seem to be walking a bit awkwardly…"

Kim turned a deep shade of beetroot.

"Must have pulled a muscle," she mumbled and made a hasty exit with Robin in tow.

Alex listened for the opening and closing of the front door, then exhaled heavily. The day wasn't going to be an easy one and she knew that only too well but it was one of the things she needed to face to let go of her old life. The weekend and Manchester were coming ever closer. She would be ready to face whatever came next.

~xxx~

_How did I ever not realise this was going to be so hard?_

That was the line that kept floating through Alex's head, again and again as she watched her grown up daughter trying on another top and bemoaning the fact that the sleeves were too long.

"Look at that, mum," she said crossly, "the rest is perfect but if I wore this for two seconds the cuffs would be caked in mud from dragging on the ground…"

Alex sat beside the changing room, smiling and laughing at Molly's observations on the clothes that she was trying on, but with every minute that passed by she knew she was a minute closer to saying goodbye. A heavy feeling settled over her heart and there was a growing lump in her throat. A first she tried to clear it away with a cough and then she realised that wasn't going to do any good. It was the gathering of tears.

Had she been in denial from the moment she'd awoken? Had she been convincing herself that leaving Molly would be easier this time because she would at least be able to say goodbye? She wasn't sure. The early days were difficult between them; she'd found it hard to relate to Molly after missing out on such an important part of her development and being apart for so many years from her point of view. Then had come the big bust-up when she'd told her daughter about her pregnancy. But after finally telling her about Gene and the strange place that she'd been while in her coma she and Molly had repaired their fragile relationship and started to bond on a new level.

_Maybe that's what's making this so much harder? Perhaps I should never have told her the truth._

No. She'd had to. She knew that. It was too big a secret to keep from her flesh and blood. She was glad that Molly knew about Gene now. She was glad she knew about the other world and that Alex had a whole, happy life there. But sharing something so personal had brought them closer together and now it was going to be even harder to say goodbye.

When Molly emerged from the changing rooms with two piles of clothes, one to buy and one to dump, Alex reached for her purse and paid for the items. She wanted Molly to have some mementos from their last day. She hoped that she would always remember her when she wore them. But as they left the store a clock in the precinct caught Alex's eye and a terrible wave of sadness overcame her.

"We've only got half an hour before you have to head back," she said quietly.

Molly gave an annoyed sigh and began to express her disappointment with a couple of choice swear words which she hastily tried to cover over as she remembered who she was with and pretended to cough instead.

"Can we meet like this again on Saturday?" she asked her mother hopefully.

Alex took a deep breath. There was a pain in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Mols, I can't," she said quietly.

"Why not?"

Alex looked at her daughter sincerely.

"I'm going to Manchester on Saturday," she said quietly.

Molly looked at her in surprise.

"Manchester?" she repeated, "why?"

Alex knew that her eyes were starting to fill up because Molly's image became more blurred with each passing moment as she said quietly,

"You remember I explained that Gene died a long time ago?" she watched her daughter nod. "I want to find his grave," she said quietly. It wasn't a total lie. One of the main plans for the weekend was to visit the memorial garden where the ashes of the 'unknown copper' had been scattered. Gene didn't have a gravestone, but it was still a place she needed to visit.

"How long will you be away for?" Molly asked.

Now Alex started to regret beginning the conversation. Why couldn't she have made up some other excuse? A hospital appointment? Counselling Robin for baked bean addiction? Anything other than Manchester.

"I'm not sure exactly," she said quietly.

"Maybe next weekend then?" Molly asked hopefully.

Alex feigned a smile, somehow. She wasn't sure how she managed it. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment.

"That would be lovely," She whispered, and knew that she'd just told her daughter the biggest lie of her life.

As they walked along, Alex managed to pull herself together enough to suggest stopping for a milkshake to Molly, who immediately replied that she wasn't eight and would rather have a coffee. With a roll of her eyes Alex took her daughter into a café and bought her a latte. Molly complained that she usually drank cappuccinos but Alex just wanted to order lattes_. A taste of home, quite literally._ She studied her daughter through their coffee cups as she sat and talked about school, about her friends, about how she was planning to spend the summer after her exams were finished. She took in every detail of her face, memorised every mannerism, committed every kind of smile she gave to memory.

Those were all things that had faded over the years. Without photographs to remember her by, over the years her mental image of Molly had faded into a general approximation, her features unclear and her expression a set of generic smiles and frowns. This time she was going to make sure she had her as accurately down in her mind as possible.

"Molls," she began seriously when Molly's conversation lapsed, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Molly looked up at her.

"What?"

Alex sat her half-empty cup down.

"Evan," she began. She saw Molly start to bristle. "No, listen to me," she said seriously, "I want to talk to you about him."

"After what he did to you?" Molly shook her head, "and all the stuff he was hiding?"

"I went to see him last week," Alex began, "he's not in a very good frame of mind."

"Then maybe _he_ needs sectioning," Molly said huffily, clearly no closer to forgiving her godfather for what happened the last time Alex woke up.

"No, Molly, listen to me," Alex looked her right in the eye. "I am every bit as hurt and angry by what he's done as you are. There is no condoning his behaviour and I'm not even going to try." She glanced down for a moment. "But he's going to need someone to support him."

"What… what do you mean?" Molly frowned.

Alex swallowed. She needed to find a way to say it without giving away what she was planning.

"Whatever he's done, he has still given us both many years of his life," she said quietly, "he took me in when your grandparents died and dedicated his life to bringing me up, then when Layton…" she flinched, even thinking about it, "…then when… _you_ needed him he did the same for you. He gave up the chance to have his own family, to meet someone and settle down, to get married, to have a life of his own so that he could dedicate his life to me, and then when he had another chance to start a life of his own he had to start again, looking after you. And I know that he has carried a lot of guilt for what he has done in the past. None of that excuses him, but…" she paused and took a deep breath. "One day he's going to need someone to lean on. And, with time – a lot of time – you will learn to forgive him."

"Doubt it," Molly said quietly but Alex shook her head.

"You will, Molly," she whispered, "because you have a good heart." She found herself choking back tears now. She couldn't let Molly see how her emotions were snowballing. She didn't want to make her suspicious. She focused on cooling her feelings as she sipped her latte for a distraction. "Never let that change, sweetheart," she whispered, "always keep that good heart."

Molly gave her a strange look. It seemed like a weird thing to say, but she supposed that her mother's pregnancy hormones were making her sentimental and tried to ignore it.

"_OK,"_ she said, warily. She drank the rest of her coffee and looked at her watch. "Mum, I have to go. Marion's picking me up in five minutes."

_Oh fuck._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

How stupid _was_ she? How stupid was Alex to believe that this moment would never come, that she could stretch the afternoon out forever and never have to say goodbye? How had she managed to stay in denial that this moment would eventually arrive? She felt her face crumbling without being able to stop it and a breathy sob emerged.

"OK," she whispered.

Molly frowned as her anxiety grew.

"Mum?" she said cautiously.

Alex grabbed feverishly for a tissue and plundered the make-up from around her eyes with it. She tried desperately to pull herself together and managed to wear a false smile as she looked at her daughter.

"I'm sorry," she bluffed, "ignore this stupid hormonal old woman."

"Are you OK?" Molly looked at her a little more closely, "you –"

"I'm just getting silly about my big, grown up girl, that's all," Alex went for the distraction technique with an overly patronising tone and a ruffle of her hair that made Molly draw back in indignant laughter.

_"Mum, no!"_ she protested but she was smiling, even though she still seemed a little concerned.

Alex took one long, deep breath.

"I'm fine, Mols," she said quietly, "I'm just… feeing so proud of the way you're growing up." She closed her eyes briefly and reeled in another sob that was threatening to escape.

"I really have to meet Marion now," Molly told her, "Do you need a lift back?"

Alex wiped her eye discreetly.

"That's alright," she said quietly, "I'm just going to finish my drink and then take a taxi."

"Alright," Molly stood up and clutched her shopping bags. Mum?"

"Yes?"

The last smile that Alex saw from Molly was warm and wonderful.

"Thanks for today. I loved everything we did."

Alex's lip trembled as she smiled back, one eye still blurred by a tear that she hadn't quite caught.

"So did I, Molly," she whispered as her daughter hugged her one last time.

I'll see you soon," Molly smiled before she waved goodbye and disappeared into the rush-hour crowd all heading home.

Alex sat motionless for some time as she watched her disappearing. She worked hard on stopping herself from giving into tears and from calling after her for one last hug, one last smile, one last goodbye. She'd been sitting there for at least two minutes when one eye started to twitch, and a corner of her mouth followed suit. While most of her face remained still, quiet but clear sobs began to emerge from her lips. As the rest of her being slowly gave way to the tears she knew that she'd made a serious error of judgement.

She was all about the lists, the charts, the brainstorms. Any problem, the first thing she did was to grab a pen or a notebook. But all the charts in the world hadn't prepared her for the depth of sadness that she experienced at knowing she was leaving her own flesh and blood behind.

_Please forgive me, Molly._

_I hope that you can understand._

_And –_

_- I hope you never, ever have to make a choice like this in your life._


	68. Chapter 35, 1997: Say No

_**A/N: Sorry this is just a short chapter, there's a long and traumatic one on its way tomorrow to make up for that!**_

_**~xXx~**_

**Chapter 35: 1997**

It had taken bloody long enough, holiday post or no holiday post.

From Keats's original request for certain items from Manchester it had taken a couple of days for them to firstly be located, then to arrive and then another couple of days to be sure that the post had delivered them to Simon's desk. He was awaiting some kind of reaction, some kind of sign that Simon had discovered a deeper layer to the truth he'd been chipping away at, piece by piece, but so far nothing.

"Time for a phone call," he muttered to himself, lifting the receiver. He had Simon's number on speed dial. in fact, he had the numbers of _anyone_ he liked to wind up on speed dial.

~xXx~

It was only the third of January and yet already 1997 had managed to get off to the worst possible start for Simon. Between stars on the ceiling, worries about Gene fleeing to the pub and a flurry of blenders that had decided to follow in the toasters' footsteps and start loping off random limbs over the new year he hadn't managed to find a single thing to smile about so far. When his phone rang he assumed that it was going to be another report of a lopped off limb courtesy of something _Currys_ had flogged a few days earlier.

"Hi-tech crimes?" he sighed as he lifted it.

"_Happy new year, Simon!"_

That was not the voice Simon wanted to hear. Of all the people that could have been on the end of the phone, Keats was the one he least wanted to hear from. He'd rather have received a call from Noel Edmonds praising him for his excellent taste in knitwear than to hear from _Keats._

"You're three days too late," he said coldly, "what do you want?"

"_Now-now, no need to be like that,"_ Keats told him, _"just calling to wish you all the best for the year ahead."_

"Well thank you very much," Simon snapped, "but I'm sure you'll forgive my hesitation in accepting your best wishes."

"_Got any interesting post lately?"_

Simon froze. He hadn't even _started_ on the post yet. He was still too busy assessing whether the blenders were a serious challenger for taking the _Most Dangerous Appliance _crown from the toasters. The post sat undisturbed at the other end of his desk but just by glancing over he could see a Keats-esque envelope peeking out.

"Fuck you, Keats."

That was really all he had to say on the matter. He'd had enough of Keats and his stupid little parcels.

"_Aren't you going to open your new year's present?"_ Keats taunted.

Simon was about to unleash more swearing or at the very least hang up on him but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what it was but he found himself truly not giving a damn what was inside the package. Keats couldn't very well destroy his family history any more than he already had done. Where before his morbid curiosity would have driven him to open it he now couldn't care less.

"No," he said quiet simply and calmly.

There was a moment of silence on the line.

"_I beg your pardon, Simon?"_

Simon stared at the post and pulled out the parcel. It was Keats's handwriting alright. He hadn't even bothered to disguise it this time. Still the envelope didn't tempt him.

"I said no thank you," he said, "I've had plenty of presents from you lately. I don't think you've got anything interesting left in your repertoire so I can't really be bothered."

"_Oh, I think you'll change your mind when you see what I managed to find for you this time,"_ Keats told him.

Simon dropped the package into the bin.

"I really don't think so," he sighed.

He started to hear Keats becoming agitated on the line.

"_Really, Simon,"_ he said firmly, "_you'll want to know what's inside it."_

Simon sighed.

"Nope," he said simply.

As Keats tried once again to persuade him to open the damn thing he started to realise something: Saying no to Keats felt _really_ bloody excellent.

He supposed there were not many people who got to do that.

"_Will you open the fucking package!"_ Keats demanded.

"No," said Simon, "I won't."

"_You bloody –"_

"Sorry, Keats, got to go," Simon sighed, "but please rest assured that your unopened package is residing in my bin where it will live a long and fruitful life until the cleaners empty it out this evening. _Bye."_

As he put down the phone and let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding he found himself smiling for the first time all year. Apparently he'd found a new favourite hobby, a way to annoy Keats _and_ the guts to stand up to the man, all at one time. Three wishes in one – it was like Kinder Surprise without the chocolate.

~xXx~

Victoria kept one eye on the doorway of Keats's office where angry noses were emerging from within as the phone rang on her desk. She cursed it and hoped it was something unimportant so that she could hang up and escape before Keats finished his tantrum and emerged in time to give her a dressing down for whatever catastrophe had befallen him that morning, or alternatively something so vital that she'd have to make a hasty exit to deal with an important matter and disappear for the rest of the day.

"DI Stone?" she said as she answered the call.

There was a click and a moment of silence before a voice came on the line. The second she heard it she froze, her body looking as though it had been caught in suspended animation for a while. It was a voice that sounded familiar, and more familiar than it _should_ have done. Why _was_ that? It did something very strange to her as her heart flip-flopped a little in her chest. "How did you get this number?" she hissed, her voice dropping. Her eyes darted around to make sure no one was nearby before she slipped sideways into her chair, an urgent expression on her face as she listened to the voice on the line. "I could get in serious trouble for this. I should hang up now." She paused, listening again. Her hands started to shake. Why _was_ that? The surprise… it must have just been the surprise. "I can't help you. If you're that concerned speak to your lawyer and go through the proper channels." Her eyes turned to the door of Keats's office which started to rattle as he angrily pulled on it, forgetting in his fury to turn the handle. She swallowed and took a deep breath. "I have to go. I'm sorry, I can't help you. Please… _never_ call this number again," then before she could change her mind she put the receiver down hard and stared at it as though it could explain to her what had just happened.

The call had come from the blue from a man whose voice she hadn't expected to hear. It shook her deep down. Before she could think about it for much longer, the door finally opened and a red faced, angry Keats burst out from within like some kind of mutated beast bursting from a dungeon. She quickly turned her head away, not wanting to risk his attention and waited for the inevitable screaming.

"If you bunch of work-shy _morons_ can keep this place together for _five_ minutes, I have to go out," he fumed, "I'll be expecting to see four walls and a ceiling still standing when I get back. Or not, since I don't expect that you'll be able to keep the roof from caving in for that long."

The final sound Victoria heard was a slamming of a door as he made his exit from CID, off on whatever rampage he'd started. She breathed a sigh of relief at his disappearance but her thoughts were racing and her hands were still trembling. Between Keats's unbeatable anger and the unexpected phone call she had a feeling the walls were most _definitely_ going to be crumbling one way or another before too long.


	69. Chapter 36, 2012: Evil Eyes

_**A/N: Please forgive the length of this chapter – as well as any really stupid typos, I've been battling a migraine to edit this monster, pity my poor editing!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 36: 2012**

"Did Alex talk to you about what happened with Molly yesterday?"

Kim glanced up at Robin as they lay in bed, trying to fight the call of the alarm clock the following morning. She had been thinking about it too. She shook her head slowly.

"No," she said softly, "she was so quiet last night. I mean, I hadn't expected anything different, but I'm really worried about her." She looked away, her thoughts racing, "I think she underestimated how hard it was going to be, knowing she was seeing her daughter for the last time." She shook her head. "I don't even know how she could make that decision, Rob. What an awful thing to have to choose."

"I know," Robin said quietly, "I hope she's going to be OK."

"She will, but it won't happen overnight," Kim told him, "she's going to need some extra support for the next few days."

They both fell silent, caught up in their own thoughts and worries. As far as Robin knew, Kim's anxiety was caused purely by her worry for Alex, but as she lay by his side her thoughts were churning around on a far darker subject too. While she was starting to realise that no amount of shared genetics made Robin a part of Keats, the man who'd caused her so much pain and damage through the years, it didn't take away the fact that she'd made the most terrible discovery and Robin still didn't know.

How could she ever tell him? The secret was weighing her down so badly that she wasn't sure how to function while it played on her mind. She found herself zoning out, succumbing to headaches, lapsing into silence and spending lengthy amounts of time staring at the wall or the floor. Robin was starting to worry about her terribly. After their middle-of-the-night interlude he'd thought that Kim had started to get over whatever was causing her to act strangely but there was still something there.

She found herself staring at the patterns on his chest; the tattoos that she had given him to mask and distract from the scars left from Keats' vicious knife attack. It made her flinch all over again to think of it. She realised that by that point Keats had already discovered the truth, he'd seen the photograph of Robin's parents – not to mention stolen it – and it hadn't stopped him from trying to kill him or from slashing him to pieces in the process. She flinched as a wave of nausea built up inside her. What kind of a man could do that to their own flesh and blood?

Only one without a heart or a soul.

The alarm went off for the second time.

"Fucking snooze button, never lasts long enough," Robin mumbled, finally making some sort of effort to get out of bed. He switched off the alarm and reached for his uniform.

~xXx~

Alex had been stirring her coffee for at least twenty minutes. Not only was it officially the most dissolved pool of sugar and coffee granules in the history of the world but it was also starting to get cold. She hadn't taken a sip, nor had she tried to make any breakfast. She couldn't have eaten if she'd tried. Her stomach had been in knots ever since she watched Molly walk away the day before.

She had been deluding herself for weeks, making herself believe that she could say goodbye to Molly and move on, knowing that this time she at least had closure. When it came down to it, it wasn't that easy. She knew that under any other circumstances, any other day, any other time she could never have made the decision to leave her daughter forever. But the circumstances truly were exceptional. There was no precedent for this. She had seen Molly as a growing young lady, mature and responsible, coping well with her life as she had adjusted to living without Alex and, later, without Evan; while inside of her was a helpless baby who would need much more from her, for a very long time. More than that, she knew that the baby needed more than she could give her in the twenty first century. She needed to grow up with her father. That was something Molly had never been lucky enough to do.

The sound of Robin and Kim heading in her direction pulled her out of her dark thoughts as she laid down her spoon at last and finally made to take a sip of her coffee. She pulled a face as she realised just how cold it had grown and decided maybe she'd just leave the coffee for the morning. It had started giving her heartburn anyway. She pushed her mug away and tried to straighten up her expression as Kim and Robin came into the room with concerned and sympathetic looks on their faces.

"Morning, ma'am," Kim said cautiously.

Alex tried to feign a smile but there was little power behind it.

"Good morning," she said quietly.

"Were you able to get much sleep?" Kim asked.

Alex took a deep breath.

"A little," she lied. She wasn't sure she'd managed to catch more than thirty seconds.

"Try to take things easy today," Kim told her as she sat down beside her, "yesterday was a big day for you, not just because…" she didn't want to put it in plain terms, "You know… with Molly… but going shopping… that must have exhausted you."

"I'm fine, Kim," Alex said, managing to persuade her smile to look slightly more realistic, "but I'll take things slowly. I do have to go out though."

A loud clattering came from across the room which sent Kim and Alex into a fit of fear before they looked over to see a swearing Robin trying to stop seven or eight cans from rolling across the room after accidentally demolishing his makeshift drumkit.

"I told you to put those in the bloody recycling!" Kim cried, clutching her chest from the shock as the clanking came to an end while the final can was caught.

"But I'm improving," Robin protested, "I can play a whole song now!"

"Not while _I'm_ around, you can't," Kim narrowed her eyes at him, "especially not while my head's thumping out the rhythm for you."

"More headaches?" Alex asked her, slightly concerned.

Kim glanced at her for a moment.

"Not been sleeping well," she said quietly, not wanting to divulge the nightmares of a bespectacled man that had plagued her the night before. Just as she thought she was starting to come to terms with her discovery her nightmares had decided to remind her exactly what she still had to deal with. She turned away and focussed on Robin as he tried to rebuild his drum kit. She closed her eyes for a moment as he cut himself on a slightly jagged lid and sighed. "Rob, can we just get going?"

"Don't you want coffee or breakfast?" he asked, flapping his sore finger around in the air.

"Not really," she sighed, "if you want anything we can pick something up on the way."

Robin wasn't sure why Kim was in such a hurry to get going that morning but he could see from her expression that she most likely needed a distraction and probably felt work was the best way to go. Finally he nodded and started to gather up his keys and wallet.

"Alright," he said quietly, "if you're sure." He glanced at Alex. "If you need anything –"

"I know where you are," Alex sighed, starting to feel a bit like a kid being left at home for the first time while her parents went out. Now that she was feeling stronger she wanted to escape the feeling of being babysat.

_Just a few more days,_ she told herself as she watched them leave.

~xXx~

It had been a heavy morning for Robin as lunchtime approached. It seemed that someone had decided it was a good idea to let the dogs in the canine division have a new year's eve party and now one of them had been arrested for possession of a class A substance. The layers of irony were building to such a degree that Robin started to feel a headache coming on. As though that wasn't bad enough he'd gone to sit down at his desk and his chair had seemingly vanished from under him. Now he had a bruised backside, a borrowed padding-less monstrosity as a replacement and a poster asking _"HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CHAIR_?"to the wall outside of his office.

When a knock sounded outside he really didn't want to invite the perpetrator inside. He considered hiding under his desk and pretending he wasn't there but realised that was stupid. There was no room under his desk for a start. Finally he called,

"_Come in?"_

An inspector arrived with a few folders for him.

"Good morning, Sir," he said, "I have last year's summary of the activity in the canine division for you."

"Oh, thanks," Robin sighed, taking the papers from him, "I was waiting for that."

The inspector seemed to hesitate. He took a step towards the door then a step back again.

"Uh, sir," he began, "Is it true you're going out with DI Stringer from CID?"

Robin sighed a little as he set down the folders, expecting another barrage of questions about sexuality and how on earth it had happened

"_Yes,"_ he sighed.

The inspector seemed a little anxious.

"She's a tough one, isn't she?" he commented.

Robin frowned.

"In what way, tough?" he asked.

"Put Constable Andrews in her place the other day," the inspector said "she learnt her lesson about trying to stop DI Stringer from getting her hands on the evidence she needed, that was for certain."

Robin frowned and wracked his brain. Usually is someone had pissed Kim off to the point at which she gave them a roasting they wouldn't forget it was the first thing she'd tell Robin about but it was the first he'd heard of it.

"Well if she needed to access the evidence for a case and someone was trying to stop her –" he began a little nervously but the inspector interrupted.

"No, that was the funny part," he said, "she wasn't even on the case! That's why Andrews dared to question her before she took the picture out."

Robin bit his lip.

"Which picture did she take?" he asked quietly.

"The one from the Layton case," he said, "the photograph. You'd know all about that though, Sir," he gave a friendly nod, "anyway, you're a braver man than I am. It's no wonder they're after your girlfriend for that fast-track course. She's like a one-woman crime-fighting force." He moved towards the doorway, "I'd better be off. Bye, sir."

Robin stared after him as he left and closed the door behind him. He felt a shudder travel down his spine. He knew Kim had a fairly fearful reputation, that didn't bother him – he thought it was funny, in fact, considering that it brought him a level of credibility that amused him. But for Kim not to mention some kind of blow up was unusual, and the fact that the inspector had referenced her viewing evidence from the Layton case struck him as very peculiar indeed. She wasn't on the case, she was one of the main witnesses after all. No way should she have been accessing the evidence.

"Photograph?" he whispered to himself. He _did _remember a mysterious third photograph that had been found upon Layton's body after Keats had skedaddled back to 1996, along with the two Keats had stolen from Robin – the one of his parents and one of Kim. He had a vague memory of the picture being thrust upon him in hospital, assumed to be his, but he'd lost so much blood and was so weak that he barely remembered anything about it, only that he knew he hadn't seen it before.

"_Shit,"_ he whispered. He didn't know what it was but he just knew inside that something strange was going on. He glanced at the clock and found it in agreement with his empty stomach; it was lunchtime. As he answered the call of the canteen his mind worked overtime. Something strange was most definitely going on, as much as he hated to admit it, and Kim was at the centre of it.

~xXx~

It was the first time Alex had been back since she'd learned the truth.

Somehow it never felt right visiting their grave when she was in Gene's world. Maybe because it wasn't 'real'. They were copies of her parents; ones to fill in the spaces amongst the lost souls who were using Gene's world to complete their own lives before moving on. The parents that she lost in 1981 the second time around were, in her eyes, different people. They weren't _mum and dad, _they were _Tim and Caroline Price_. That wasn't to say that it didn't hurt every time she thought abut witnessing the explosion all over again. It hurt just as badly, albeit in different ways.

She was genuinely surprised she remembered where to go as she walked through the graveyard. It was a cold, grey day and the cemetery was more or less deserted. A solitary sparrow fluttered from stone to stone as she passed by, almost as though it was watching to see where she was going to make her way.

She clutched the flowers tightly as she moved along, every step slow and cumbersome. Kim and Robin had been right in reminding her that the day before had been fairly heavy for her. She had started to get so used to feeling stronger that she forgot she was still recovering and pushing herself too hard would leave her feeling exhausted and weakened. She cursed herself for that. Every step was awkward and painful and her muscles were not responding to her commands, but she pressed on.

With one hand draped across her belly as though to protect her growing baby from the cold she came to a halt before a large gravestone. Ivy had grown across it which she tried to pull away with limited success. Without Alex or Evan tending to it there was no reason for it to be kept clear, she supposed. She knelt down beside it and read the inscription; both her parents' names and dates of birth, but the same date for both their deaths. A date she had lived through twice.

"You got your wish, dad," she said quietly as she looked at the combined grave. After such a fierce explosion there had been little of her parents left to bury, and what there was had been difficult to separate. Of course as a child Alex had never been told this. Discovering these facts in the aftermath of the second time around had been upsetting but explained why they shared a gravestone. "You and mum, joined forever. No one to tear you apart now." She closed her eyes and already could feel tears starting to slip down her cheeks. It had been a long time since she confronted the truth about her parents' deaths but the pain was still raw.

"Mum," she whispered. She opened her eyes and reached forward to pull a little more ivy from her mother's name. "I'm so sorry. I… I did my best…" she shook her head slowly, "but if nothing else, I'm so happy that I got to know you. I got to know you as a person. An intelligent, strong and lovely person. Not just as my mother but as who I would have hopefully gotten to know you as I'd grown older if you'd been around."

She stared at the words engraved before her. It seemed so surreal somehow to look at them, knowing what she knew now. She hung her head and finally laid the flowers she'd been clutching across the grave.

"I'm sorry I won't be here to keep your headstone clean and free from ivy," she said quietly, "but I have a place to be. You see, what started as a… a place to solve the issues that losing you had left in my mind… became my home," she found herself smiling through the tears and wrinkled up her nose slightly as she realised how silly it sounded. "Funny, isn't it? When I first went back I'd have done anything to find my way back here. And then it became my home." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I know that… you had your own views on Gene, mum, but… he makes me happy. " She couldn't bring herself to say _'hope you're happy to'_, although the irony made her let forth a tiny laugh, "I hope you'd be proud of me. I'm a DCI now. Wedding on the cards. Baby on the way. And a better life than I ever thought I would have." Her face fell slightly as she took a deep breath. "But I miss you both. And I always will. That's never going to change." She slowly got to her feet, holding her coat around her with one hand and dusting the dirt from her palm with the other. To the headstone she blew a kiss, wishing that somehow her parents would know and understand why she was making the choice to leave this world. "Goodbye, mum," she whispered, a tear starting to fall, "goodbye, dad. Sweet dreams."

She found herself bowing her head and she turned and slowly began to walk away. Her breath was hampered with little sniffles but they weren't the painful emotional sobs from her goodbye with Molly the day before. This felt like closure, both from her relationship with her parents in the real world and from her experience in 1981. It felt good; it cleansed her, it helped her to move forward.

As she left the graveyard slowly, her body still aching and her movements still awkward, she watched the sun starting to peek out from behind the clouds. It held no power of warmth but it certainly brought the corners of her mouth into a smile. The sun was starting to shine on her, and luck would surely follow. Her goodbyes were almost over and soon her journey would begin in earnest.

~xXx~

Robin's smile waived as he watched Kim sit down heavily opposite him, a tray of food in front of her which she began to shovel down at break-neck speed.

"Uh, hungry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"_Haaaaa-hhoooggbbb-twwwwwrrr-hyyyyunnn,"_ Kim mumbled through a mouthful of something that was supposed to be pasta but tasted more like glue.

Robin hesitated, trying to translate but finally gave up.

"Pardon?"

Kim chewed a few times, gulped down her mouthful and repeated,

"Got to get back to work by one."

"Oh."

"Sorry, Rob, we've got a briefing about a shipment of stolen underpants that's been found in a lock-up," she explained.

"Hope they're at least clean," Robin shuddered. He picked up his fork but didn't start to eat anything. "I, uh, heard about another entry in your _rampage hall of fame_ this morning," he said quietly.

Kim looked at him curiously as she chewed another mouthful of pasta.

"Oh?" she frowned, "don't remember upsetting anyone this week… who was it?"

"PC Andrews," Robin told her.

Kim shrugged.

"Don't know who that is."

"Something to do with evidence?" Robin tried.

For a split second a look of horror fell over Kim's face. She seemed to freeze, mid-chew and took several attempts at finishing her mouthful of pasta. She quickly rescued her expression and turned it neutral again before she said,

"Oh yeah, I remember now. Can't stand a jobsworth, you know that."

"What did you want with evidence from the Layton case?" Robin asked as casually as he could. He noticed the pause before she replied.

"I didn't want it," she said quietly, "Huston sent me down. Something to do with connecting Layton and Nailer."

"Oh," Robin said quietly. He felt himself starting to lose his nerve. He didn't want to press her any further, not just because he didn't want to risk a tongue-lashing but because her reactions had genuinely worried him. Her behaviour had been up and down for a few days and this just seemed like such a strange occurrence that he couldn't help but feel the two were connected. He didn't know what she was doing with the evidence, nor why she wanted that photograph in particular. He wished he remembered more about it but his memory of that night in hospital was extremely hazy. He stabbed his fork into some of the mystery meat on his plate and forced himself to take a bite. His appetite had hit zero but at least it provided a momentary distraction.

He watched as Kim eventually went back to her meal, wolfing down the rest of the pasta before the underpants briefing and made her apologies.

"I'll see you after work," she told him, hoping that he had run out of questions about the evidence she'd borrowed.

He gave her a slightly wobbly smile as she left and found himself growing more anxious with every moment that passed. This wasn't normal behaviour for Kim, he knew that for certain. Whatever was wrong, he needed to find out.

~xXx~

Robin was starting to see why PC Andrews had managed to get Kim's bad books the other day. He'd been arguing for two minutes already with the woman and was surprised that she had not yet used the immortal line "Your name's not down, you're not coming in." She was more like a bad bouncer than a cop in charge of the evidence.

"Look, I don't want to take anything away, I just need to review the evidence you have in the Layton case!" he protested.

"You will need to fill out all the necessary forms," she said, "in triplicate. And we'll need to cross-match your fingerprints and biometric ID with our database."

Robin leaned across the counter.

"Or I could call DI Stringer and see what she says about it," he threatened.

The look on the WPC's face was a picture. She moved back swiftly and said,

"That won't be necessary. Just… just sign here, and if there's anything out of place your name will be brought up instantly."

Robin glared at her as he signed the sheet of paper she was flapping in his direction and finally she allowed him to pass. He found his pulse rocketing as he slipped by into the room beyond. Whatever Kim was being s evasive about was somewhere within those walls and he needed to find it for himself.

~xXx~

Kim rolled her eyes as she listened to the third person making a joke about the Underpants Gnomes and wondered if she was stuck in an episode of South Park. The fact that someone had actually written _'1: Get Underpants, 2 ?, 3: Profit' _on the whiteboard disturbed her more than the pair of pants that Huston seemed to be wearing on his head.

And yet somehow none of those things worried her as much as her conversation with Robin from lunchtime.

At the time she had just wanted it to be over so that she didn't have to confront the subject so she was glad when Robin had fallen silent but the more she thought about it the stranger that actually seemed. Why would Robin have gone quiet instead of pursuing his line of questioning? That wasn't like Robin. That's why he made such a good copper, after all. She found herself chewing nervously on her lip as her worries started to grow. She had no qualms with Robin knowing that she'd managed to terrify a jobsworth, that was all part of the job as far as she was concerned, but the fact that Robin knew the evidence was related to the Layton case worried her.

Her eyes darted to the clock as she watched the hands move around. Shit, how long was this bloody briefing going to go on for? She had only been pulled into it on the suspicion that the perpetrator was threatening to do himself in with a pair of pants around the neck and her skills as a negotiator may have been required.

"Thank you, everyone."

_Oh, thank god for that._ Kim breathed a sigh of relief as Huston dismissed his team, issuing free pants for all. She found her heart was racing and she knew that she needed to do something to set her own mind at rest so she quickly discarded her free pants on the desk and raced away down the corridor and down the stairs, with uniform as her destination.

The walk to Robin's office seemed far longer than usual. She supposed it was from her desperation to arrive as quickly as humanly possible. She wasn't even sure what she was going to say when she arrived. She just needed to talk to him, throw him off the scent a little until she had worked out what to tell him. That was still the hardest part and she was not ready for it yet. She didn't want some loose-lipped copper to force her hand.

She knocked on the door of his office but couldn't afford to wait for a response and opened it immediately.

"Rob, sorry, I just –" she began but as the door opened fully she found his office empty. Her heart rose to her throat as she cursed and doubled back on herself, bumping into a passing sergeant outside. "Hey, do you know where Chief Inspector Thomas is?" she asked, a little breathlessly.

"Yeah, actually," he man began, "just saw him making a scene about getting hold of some evidence."

Kim's whole body froze as her muscles seized up in horror, right from head to toe.

"Evidence?" she repeated quietly. A dark feeling descended upon her and her stomach churned with fear. Shit, why hadn't she just found the courage to tell him? Why hadn't she found a better way to throw him off the scent when he started asking questions? _Why, why, why…?_

She'd never sworn so loudly, nor ran as fast, as she did at that moment.

~xXx~

He already knew this was a bad idea.

But then, when had that ever stopped him before?

He read the evidence list connected to the crimes that Keats committed while in Layton's body. There was a small part of him that felt sorry for Layton, being blamed for so many crimes that were down to someone even more evil than he was, but it was only a very small part.

Some of the items listed as evidence in those crimes truly made him shudder. There was the partially constructed bomb found on the boat, some of Kim's hair from where he'd hacked it away and a number of items belonging to Evan White – including a now very blunt beard trimmer. But the photograph was the one Kim had been so intent on seeing so that was the one Robin needed to see too.

He hesitated before he reached for it. He remembered parts of the night. Other parts? Well, they were not so clear. He'd spent all day tied up on a boat. He'd lost an extremely severe amount of blood. He was dehydrated, under heavy sedation and had just been through the most traumatic day of his life. All he cared about that night was getting the photograph of his parents back. He vaguely remembered the nurse asking of the additional photo was his to but it didn't seem to make a lot of sense in his mind. He didn't really remember what the picture looked like, only that it was unfamiliar and he couldn't have cared less about it. He'd barely given it a glance.

All he knew was, it wasn't his.

"So what was Kim doing with this?" he whispered as he lifted the evidence bag, reverse side pointing in his direction.

'Mum and Dad, 1971' it said on the back of the photo. He recognised the handwriting. He'd seen it throughout the investigation into Keats going way back. It sent a shudder down his spine even to think about it. So Keats had gone back to his old flat to collect a picture of his folks – how touching.

"Then what the hell did Kim want with –" he stopped as he flipped the picture over in his hands.

For Robin, the whole world stopped turning, right there and then.

~xXx~

Alex sat quietly in a familiar café, staring at the cup on the table. It hadn't been a part of her schedule, she'd gone there on a whim, but she just had to know if _Latte Land_ was still there.

"You're not _quite_ my caffeinated local," she said quietly, hoping that no one was looking in her direction and wondering why there was a strange woman talking to herself, "but not far off."

There were some clear differences. The café had been long-since taken over by a generic, faceless, coffee-belching industry giant that had taken away its individuality and replaced it with a uniformed look that any high-street could offer. But sitting there, staring at the cup on her table, she could almost have been back in the nineties.

There was no Coffee Drinker of the Week award on the wall, rotating between - usually – Gene and Simon, nor was there the warning about only allowing that copper with the Fiat to only purchase a maximum of twenty lattes in one go but it was still Latte Land to Alex. Or at least as damn close as she could get.

"I've missed you," she said quietly with a smile to the café. She didn't care now whether anyone saw her speak out loud or not. She was just glad that she'd had the thought to drop by.

She sipped her latte and then turned her attention to the bag sitting on the table beside it. The previous day she'd realised, while shopping with Molly, that there was a little extra shopping that she needed to do. The following day was to be her day of focusing on saying goodbye to Robin and Kim, and she needed to find some pretty damn special thank you gifts. Her friends and current hosts had gone above and beyond the call of duty with all they had helped her through. Trying to find a way to thank them hadn't been easy.

It had been a tough and emotional week, and it wasn't over yet. She still had two more days before she embarked upon her journey North and began the quest to find Gene a sense of peace. But she was almost there. The days were flying by.

Now she just hoped time would soon be flying in the _opposite_ direction.

~xXx~

It was the eyes he recognised. His mind had blurred so many of the details of his family and his childhood – it was the only way to cope sometimes – but those eyes were something he had never forgotten. Every now and then they would still haunt him; the dark, angry eyes that would bore into him as he sat there, just waiting for the next spiteful comment, or that would be fixed upon his mother, waiting to unleash a torrent of verbal abuse.

Those eyes were something he'd never forgotten.

He had only one photograph of his father and until he'd had to replace the frame that Keats had smashed he hadn't even seen that picture in many years; over a decade in fact. Now here before him was another picture of the man who had taken his mother's life and in doing so taken a huge part of Robin's life away too.

The voice of the nurse in the hospital flooded through his mind, how sure she was that the photograph was his own.

"_It's the same man,"_ she'd said insistently.

Robin had been so far gone with exhaustion and blood loss that he hadn't even taken a proper look, he just knew it wasn't his photograph and he'd told her so. All he wanted was for the nurse to leave so that he could talk to Kim again. Why the fuck hadn't he even _looked_ at that photo? Why hadn't he questioned her words? Why, through all those months, had he never even wondered who was in the mysterious third photograph?

He stared at those angry eyes again. they were accompanied by a stern and angry-set mouth that was also all too familiar. He knew that, behind the one remaining photograph of his mother at home, there was a matching glare and a matching sneer from his father.

But this was someone else's father too.

_Mum and Dad, 1971._

A turbulent swell of bile raged in Robin's throat. He found his hands shaking as he stared at the picture. Keats's voice rang through his mind as he replayed mentally the most terrifying moment of his life, when the bespectacled devil was about to carry out the most horrific of revenge upon him. Something had stopped him. One single event had cut Keats's intentions off in their prime. The moment the frame smashed and the photo of his father had been exposed to the air Keats's face had contorted and twisted with seven shades of fury.

He could still hear Keats's angry screaming in his mind.

_"That is not,"_ he'd screamed, _"your father. Tell me that is not your fucking father!"_

"Oh my god," the words flew from Robin's lips as a hundred moments, a hundred thoughts flooded into his mind, "oh god, _no –"_

_"What fucking use are you to me now?" _Keats had spat.

_Not possible, not possible… couldn't be possible –_

He closed his eyes tightly as he pictured Keats in the aftermath; the trashing of his room, the violent sickness, his complete change of plan. He remembered something he'd spat angrily as they battled in Alex's hospital room;

"_A waste of blood and a waste of space –"_

Robin had never known what stopped Keats that day, and he had been too grateful that something _had_ to question it as much as he should have. In his mind he'd settled the idea that seeing Robin's parents had somehow shocked him into realising Robin was just a normal man and that what he was doing was wrong but he should have known better. A mere fact of being human was never enough to stop Keats from carrying out a terrible plan.

But even Keats couldn't rape his own brother.

"_Brother –"_

The word burnt Robin like fire as it fell angrily from his tongue.

Right there, right then, the truth stabbed him through the heart with damage to never be repealed. There was no getting past it. There was no denying it, not even for a moment. He held in his hands a photograph of Keats's mother and father, and the latter half of that combination was someone who had brought misery to Robin for the first 15 years of his life.

Something exploded inside of him and he couldn't take any more.

~xXx~

"_Shit… shit… shit…"_

It wasn't usual for Kim to use the S word anywhere between three and ten times in a row as a substitute for a more coherent sentence but rarely had she used it with more urgency than right there and then. She tore along the corridor just in time to see Robin flying out of a side door at top speed. Her swearing started up again as she followed, then she tried to call after him but either he didn't hear her or he had no intention of stopping.

She cursed herself as she ran – why was she going so fucking _slowly?_ She felt tired and her limbs felt heavy, she just couldn't get them going. _Not enough sleep and too much crap to eat over Christmas,_ she supposed, wishing she could find a pair of super sneakers abandoned by Sonic the Hedgehog to give her an extra burst of speed. She growled angrily at herself for wasting her brain cells on wishing that a fast, blue hedgehog was real, just to lend her his impressive footwear, and tried calling Robin's name again as he jumped into his car and switched on the engine.

"Shit, _no,"_ she muttered She was too far away to be heard but tried calling after him again anyway just as the car started to move and turned to head towards the car park exit. _"Robin!_ Rob, no, wait," she cried, her voice filling with tears of desperation, _"please_ – fuck's sake, Rob, you can't go to pieces on me now –"

But Robin either hadn't seen her or just couldn't stop himself and by the time she reached his now empty parking space he'd left the car park.

Kim thought fast. As she stood, panting for breath and clutching her side where a stitch was forming, she tried to work out what to do next. They'd arrived together as they did almost every morning. Her car was back at the flat. She only had one viable option, so with a half-stagger she headed back into the building as quickly as possible and forced her way through a crowd of people who were all waiting to report stolen sheep then thrust herself at the window in the foyer.

"I need one of the pool cars," she said breathlessly.

The man behind the desk jumped a little at her sudden, forceful demand but had heard enough stories about people who crossed DI Stringer to know that when she needed a car she needed one _now_ so he ducked below the window, rummaged around and returned with a set of keys.

"Bay seventeen," he said, "Can you just sign them out so that I can…" but Kim had disappeared before he'd finished the word 'sign'. He closed his eyes for a moment and let out his breath. "Never mind," he mumbled, "I'm sure the paperwork will wait until you get back..."

X

Clutching the keys, Kim burst back into the car park and set off towards the car pool.

"_Bay seventeen, bay seventeen…"_ she mumbled, looking at the numbers on the ground one at a time until finally she spotted the number she'd been looking for and slowly her eyes rose to take in the full picture of the car that sat in the space.

A mid-nineties, yellow Fiat stared back at her.

In that split second she really thought her heart was going to stop dead.

"Oh what the _f-f-f-f-f…."_ she couldn't even get out a curse word as her knees turned to jelly, "you have _got_ to be fucking kidding me." She stared at the keys in her hand and noticed for the first time the keyring attached to them bearing a slightly ornate letter _G_. All at once a thousand thoughts ran through her mind – a thousand questions, possibilities, instances of confusion, but she didn't have the time to consider them right then. She needed to find Robin before he did anything stupid. She ran to the door and unlocked it, jumped in the driver's seat and started the car as fast as she could. She paused to take a deep breath.

"Bloody hell, it even smells like lattes in here," she cried in horror.

As she began to drive towards the exit she realised that she had absolutely no idea where to go. Robin's car was long gone and as fast as he was driving there was no trail of smoke or rubber to follow. She closed her eyes, cursed and took a deep breath. _Come on, _she tried to rally herself. No one knew Robin better than she did. If anyone was going to know where he would go at a time like this then it was going to be her. Where did he go when he was in distress? Where did he go when life was crumbling around him? She closed her eyes, desperately hoping for the answer to come to her and finally it did.

"_Bed,"_ she whispered.

Their safe haven. The place that they went to for shelter when life was all too much to take. There was only one place Robin was going to be.

With her foot on the accelerator she hoped to god she'd make it there in time to stop him from self-destructing.

~xXx~

Robin didn't remember getting home. He didn't remember any part of the drive, nor getting out of the car and letting himself in. All he could remember were the myriad images and words that crashed through his memory time and again. Moments from Keats's terrifying attack on him, cuffing him to the bed, taunting him, slashing him with the knife – memories from his time in 1995, the way that Keats tried to manipulate him just as he had everyone before him – the maniacal stalking of Simon after his return from the eighties, the extreme lengths that he went to in order to try to destroy his life, all of the terrifying facts that emerged during the investigation after his death.

One by one they all started to come back to him, torturing him a little more with every one that played through his mind and every step that he took as he fumbled his way down the hall. That man, the most evil of men, the one who would make anther bleed without a second thought, who would destroy the life of another as a matter of his normal daily business, who had brought pain and suffering to so many people -

That man –

And Robin…

…They –

They _shared_ the same father.

"Oh _god,"_ Robin's voice was broken, cracking with tears of horror and despair. He slammed the door behind him and found himself walking to the bedroom, barely even registering what he was doing. He sank onto the bed with his head in his hands but instantly it felt as though his head could explode from the horror of what he'd discovered and the anguish drove him back to his feet. He walked around and around, paced up and down with hot angry tears falling silently down his face.

He couldn't contain the horror, the feeling of burning that ran through his veins as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and all at once saw every tiny similarity between them. The more he looked, the more he felt as though his features morphed until all he could see staring back was Him. It. _Keats._

He screamed. The scream was the longest and loudest sound that had ever ripped through the air from his lungs. He couldn't seem to stop it. It ran seemingly forever until eventually the air in his lungs ran out and the sound had to cease alongside it. He felt dizzy and disorientated. He wanted to lie down and fall asleep; to never wake up, to never have to confront the god awful truth about his genes and where half of them came from.

He hadn't even heard the front door open and close in the midst of his eternal scream. The sound of Kim's voice from the doorway came as a shock and he turned around with a start. She was the last person that he had expected to see, even though it was her home too – how had she known he was going to be there? His eyes were open as wide as a rabbit caught in the headlights of a speeding vehicle as he caught sight of her there. Her face wore a terrible mix of anguish, fear and pity that he just couldn't stand to see.

"Rob," she whispered as she began to approach him, "Rob, it's OK –"

Robin found himself backing away. He knew it was irrational but he didn't want Kim to come too close to him. He felt as though he was corrosive; radioactive, as though he was poisonous, as though somehow the blood running through his veins was going to hurt her.

"You knew," he whispered tearfully. It wasn't an accusation. He couldn't understand how she had known about this deepest, darkest of secrets and still have stayed by his side.

Her face seemed to fall.

"Only for a cpuple of days," she whispered.

"_How?"_ his tone was frantic now and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

"When you told me about your family," he watched her eyes fill with tears, "I… I recognised your father's name. The Keats documentary... And then I remembered about that photograph… I had to see, Rob… I was going to tell you but I didn't know _how…"_

His eyes opened wider as she stepped towards him.

"No, Kim, _please_," he cried, "stay where you are."

"Robin, you're not poison," her voice crackled with emotion as her heart ached to take this trauma away from him.

"I _feel_ like it," he cried, his whole body shaking, "please, you can't… you can't be _with_ me, Kim, not any more –"

"Rob, _listen_ to me," she began sternly but he shook his head and moved right back until he could go no further.

"I share his blood," he whispered, a stream of hot, angry tears falling down his face, "his genes. His DNA. I can't escape them. They're… they're always going to be there –"

"But _you're_ not _him_," Kim said firmly.

"The things he's done," Robin's eyes were frantic as she started to slowly walk towards him again, "all those terrible things… I share that blood, Kim. I _share_ that."

"_No,"_ Kim shook her head, "you can't let him get into your head this way. You can't forget who you are."

"I don't _know_ who I am any more."

"Well _I _do." Kim found herself shaking as she moved closer, "you're Robin Thomas. Whatever your DNA might say there is no part of you that shares _anything_ in common with Keats."

Robin swallowed.

"Except you," he whispered.

His words froze Kim on the spot. As she stared at him she could see a new fear growing in his eyes, the same fear that she'd held just days before until Alex had put her straight. That look on his face broke Kim's heart and she couldn't stop her own tears from falling.

"If you think," she began so quietly that her voice was almost inaudible, "that there's any way that what I feel for you…" she swallowed as she tried to get her words straight, "is anything other than one hundred percent genuine…" she took another step closer, just inches away from him now, "You could _not_," she whispered, "be more wrong." Her head shook slowly from side to side as she thought about just how far they'd both come since they met, and all that they'd been through to be together. She couldn't believe that she had even doubted for a moment that their relationship could have had any other founding than two people who were supposed to be together despite the odds. "Just look at me, Rob. Look me in the eye. You don't need me to tell you how i feel about you because you can see it for yourself."

Robin could see it. He could see it in her eye. He could see it written all over her face. He saw it every time he looked at her, but discovering something so shocking had shaken everything that he thought he knew.

"What if you can't be with me any more?" he whispered, "what if you start looking at me and seeing _him?"_

"I can't, Robin," Kim shook her head. She reached out and laid her fingers against his face. "I can't see something that's not there. All I can see is you."

"But he –"

"You're not Keats. You are _not Keats."_ She moved her hand slowly from his cheek down to his chest where she pressed it against his heart to feel it beating, "because you have one of _these_….Which is something he will never have." She looked him right in the eye, pleading with him to listen to what she was saying. "Don't self-destruct, Rob. Don't let him destroy you."

"I just… I can't cope," Robin cried, his heart rate speeding up, "how am I ever supposed to deal with this? How am I ever supposed to live my life again, knowing that he's my brother?"

"Because I'm going to be right here by your side," Kim said urgently, her teeth gritted and her face stony serious, "and I'm going to help you every single step of the way. I'm going to help you take this one day at a time. One minute at a time. I'm going to be right here by your side and I am _not_ going to let you fall apart. Do you hear me?" she pushed him slightly to show how serious she was but the look of anguish and devastation on his face wasn't fading. She didn't know if she could ever take this pain away from him. But she knew she had to try with every part of her being. "You are _not_ going to fall apart," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him as much as he struggled and tried to move away. She wasn't going to let him. He needed to know that he wasn't poison and that genetics held no meaning when it came down to it. It was what was in his heart, not what was in his genes that mattered

She held his face and turned it back towards her. He tried to fight against it but she wasn't going to let him get away. She wasn't going to let him face this alone and she needed to show him that - no matter what - he was still the same man that he'd always been, the same man that she had fallen in love with.

As she pressed her lips against his and forced him to understand that the way she felt about him wasn't going to change she knew that there was going to be a long and difficult journey ahead for them both, but they would get there. They _had_ to. They'd already been through so much, too much for this to destroy them. Even in death Keats threatened to destroy people's lives but this was one time he wouldn't succeed.

Some people were too strong to let a four-eyed slug steal their peace of mind. Luckily Kim knew she and Robin were two of them.

~xXx~

As she walked slowly towards the gates and entered the car park outside the flats Alex felt a strange jumble of emotions inside of her. Between her farewell to her parents and revisiting the location of many a latte she was feeling a mix of sadness, hope and nostalgia. There were now just two days standing between herself and Manchester; the next day would be spent saying goodbye to Robin and Kim, while the last would be spent simply saying goodbye to the world and preparing to make the ultimate journey.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost passed it by. She was almost parallel to it when she noticed it. It was the colour that caught her eye first; so familiar. And so unusual. It made her stop and glance around, and _that_ was when she saw it in all its glory; the car she'd spent countless hours in the passenger seat of, Gene sitting beside her, usually a latte lurking somewhere nearby.

An instant reaction that this wasn't possible was soon swept away by the fact that it was clearly _there._ There was no arguing with _that_ evidence.

She reached out and touched the paintwork which sent a tremble through her body. She could almost feel the sparks flying from it; the sparks of time, the sparks of hope. She closed her eyes as overwhelming emotions took her legs from under her. She felt blackness swamping her as she passed out, right there and then in the car park.

X

When she came around she found three old ladies offering her cups of tea, and a terrible fear riding through her bones. Her blacked-out dreams had shown her things, glimpses of home, echoes of the life that the man she needed to return to was living.

"_He's falling apart,"_ she whispered.

She'd seen much more than she wanted to and now her fears were only going to grow. She knew time was running out and she _had_ to make it home. Whether she'd get there before Gene did something stupid – well, that remained to be seen.


	70. Chapter 36, 1997: Farewell Fiat

**A/N: well done to everyone who waded through the long, dark chapter yesterday! I know it was fairly dark and grim, but so was my head while I was writing it! Slightly more light-hearted chapter now to balance that out :)**

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 36: 1997**

_Funny how you can blink and miss days,_ Gene thought to himself as he strolled through the corridors. It was the 4th of January already and he was fairly sure there hadn't been _that_ many days since Simon's _Great Hangover Debacle._ In fact, he was fairly sure Simon was still displaying some of the effects of the aforementioned hangover. Nonetheless, the days were passing by and he felt no differently. He knew full well what he'd said to Simon. He knew that he'd made promises that he was no longer prepared to keep. But if the stars _were_ down to him then it was better to move on now rather than to wait while the station he'd spent so many years shaping crumbled around him.

He arrived at the photocopier room to find an _out of order_ sign in the machine, which was fine by him The only time he used the damn thing was to copy something for blackmail reasons or to make _arse-wallpaper_ as he had on one rather drunken occasion. Alex had not been best pleased to discover his make-shift decorating job when she got home from a particularly boring course _that_ weekend.

Under the table on which the copier stood was a box filled with reams of paper which he swiftly dumped out without a second thought. He tucked the empty box under his arm and walked back to his office, relieved that he hadn't encountered Simon on the way. Explaining away the box wasn't something that he was looking forward to doing.

He marched briskly through CID, hearing one call if _"What's in the box, guv?" _as he passed by, to which he replied; _"The teeth of the next person to ask me that question."_

He carried on towards his office, the door opening graciously for him and allowing him through where he promptly struck an unexpected item of furniture and flew head-over-arse across a chair that hadn't been there five minutes ago. For a few moments he stayed where he was on the floor, box on head, in shocked and stony silence until he came to like a cartoon character that had been hit on the head by an anvil and he scrambled to his feet. He thrust open the door and boomed into CID,

"_Whichever one of you perpetually idiotic morons decided to turn my office into an Ikea showroom can go and choose yourself a flat-packed, self-assembly coffin!"_

A sea of blank faces stared back as he slammed the door behind him and pulled down the blinds. He did not want to be disturbed.

His first port of call was to glare at the mysterious chair. He had no idea where it had come from but to his disgust it looked several times more comfortable than his own. He circled it a few times like an animal stalking its prey, trying to find any identifying marks. There was a strip of chunky masking tape across the back on which the words '_R.T.; office u23'_ had been written and a suspicious-looking stain on the seat. Other than that he couldn't find any clues to its identity.

"Bloody furniture, give it an inch and it'll take up yer whole office space," he mumbled.

After pushing the chair to the side of the room with extreme prejudice he walloped the box onto his desk and took a deep breath. He hoped no one was going to make the grave mistake of disturbing him, although if they did he had managed to work out at least ten or twelve box-related insults to get rid of them. He wasn't looking forward to this but he knew it had to be done.

Opening his top drawer, he started to fish out a few personal items. Notebooks, photos – somewhere amongst them was a metal number 6620, but he tried not to think about that. He worked through his drawers one at a time – there wasn't very much of his own that he wanted to take away if he was honest. He had emptied his desk when he'd been suspended for a month the year before and much of it had never returned.

He moved quickly around his office, loading up the box with anything else that he found. He left a bottle of scotch in the filing cabinet. He'd be needing that until the bitter end. Soon there was a half-full box and a slightly emptier office. It was telling how little of himself there actually was engrained into the fabric of that room. Maybe there was a part of him that had always known he wasn't going to be back for long after his suspension. It was depressing in a way to see the box so bare. Sixteen years, give or take, in that station and that was all he had to show for it.

He heard a knocking at the door and in a moment of panic he dropped the box to the ground and kicked it under the desk.

"Yes?" he barked.

The door opened slightly and Terry looked in.

"Guv," he said, "I called Ikea. They don't do coffins."

Gene stared at him in disbelief. Surely even Terry couldn't have actually _called_ them? Was he serious?

"What?" he demanded.

"They have a special on flat-packed wardrobes til next Wednesday though," Terry told him, "you want me to get one of those instead?"

Gene stared at him. It seemed he _was_ serious. He was very glad that he hadn't yet packed away his scotch because he was going to need a large one shortly.

"Yes," he began through gritted teeth, "but make sure it's got a strong rail."

"Guv?"

"Fir when I slip a coat hanger in yer shoulders and hang you up to stop you letting your unique brand of stupidity infiltrate the rest of Fenchurch!"

He aimed a strong glare at Terry as he made apologies for his mistake and left the room. Gene gave a deep sigh. His heart wasn't even in insulting his team any more. That's when he _knew_ something had to change. Packing the box was the first step. He still had to find a way to sneak it out without being noticed. Luckily it was a Saturday and the place was emptier than usual. Hopefully he'd be able to get it to his car without being seen.

He peered out the window to check that there were no random Shoeburys wandering past at the wrong moment that might catch him, but immediately he spotted a far greater problem. He seemed to freeze on the spot as his eyes focused on his usual parking spot. It seemed to be lacking something. Something important. Something that was a vital part of both Gene Hunt _and_ his parking space. Without it, the power of both rapidly diminished.

"What –"

He blinked and tried to clear his vision but nothing changed.

"- The –"

He felt his pulse starting to climb as the empty spot stared back.

"- Hell…"

It was impossible. It just… he was seeing things, he had to be…

Forgetting all about boxes and clearing desks for a moment he found himself running from his office and tearing through CID at a speed he hadn't moved at since someone said _Latte Land_ were giving away free coasters. His legs took him down several flights of stairs and out into the car park, shaking with fury as he reached his parking space and found it one hundred percent, totally and utterly _empty._

"Where… the fucking _hell…"_ his voice rose an octave with every word, "…is my _bloody CAR?"_

Flailing around in fury, running in circles and gnashing his teeth did little to solve the riddle, or to make Gene feel any better.

His precious Fiat had made a break for it.

~xXx~

"Sir?"

Simon looked up. He hadn't even heard Eddie appearing at the doorway. He'd been so engrossed in the government's strategic plans for dealing with unruly appliances that he had been completely oblivious to everything else around him.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he noticed a slightly anxious look upon his face.

Eddie shuffled uncomfortably.

"It's the Guv," he said, "he's having a nervous breakdown in the car park."

"What?" Simon frowned, "A nervous breakdown? Don't be stupid?"

"His car's been nicked."

That was different.

Panic ran through Simon's veins as he jumped to his feet.

"Shit! He cried, "I'll be right there!"

That car rated second only to Alex in Gene's affections. Losing one had almost been the end of him. With the car following suit he was anticipating more intimate pot-plant relations ahead.

~xXx~

"My bloody _car!"_ Gene's anger raged as a small gathering of amused onlookers observed his behaviour, "from right outside me bloody _station!"_

"Gene," Simon's voice called out as he ran across the car park. He could see Gene's demeanour reflecting that which he'd displayed after Alex had disappeared.

"Me bloody _car!"_ he cried.

"I heard," Simon said quickly, "Gene, calm down, we'll get it traced."

"Right from me own _parking space!"_ Gene cried, "someone's going to get a pair of jump leads up the arse when I get my hands on the mouldy scrotum that nicked me car!"

You won't get hold of them standing and making a scene in the car park," Simon reminded him, "quick, you go to uniform and put out a description of your car to all units, right? I'll get the CCTV footage. We'll find who's taken it."

"You'd better hope we do," Gene said crossly as he stomped towards uniform, "because otherwise you're going to be giving me a bloody piggy back on the next case."

~xXx~

Simon mumbled crossly to himself as he carried the CCTV tapes through CID, towards Gene's office. Really this was the last thing he needed. He was already worried about Gene, he didn't need to add more concerns to his list by watching him mourn the loss of his precious car too. He opened the door of the office and walked straight into a random chair, tumbling head first and sending cassettes scattering left, right and centre.

_"Fuck!"_ he cursed, scrambling upright and dusting himself down. Where the hell had _that_ come from? He kicked it crossly, bruised a toe and swore again. As soon as the pain subsided enough for him to stop hopping around he began to pick up the tapes and finally gathered himself enough to put one in Gene's video recorder and start to play it. Rewinding it bit by bit, he kept a firm eye on Gene's parking space, waiting for the car to speed backwards into the spot and for some sneaky thief to tumble out but his expectations came to nothing.

He swallowed hard as he witnessed the moment, in reverse, where the car went from not being there to, quite simply, being there. Then he watched it the right way round. He rewound it and watched it again, his mouth growing dry while his palms grew moist. He knew he was starting to shake, he couldn't help it.

Just was he was watching it for the fifth time he heard the thunderous footsteps of an angry Gene approaching, muttering obscenities abut items he was going to stick up the backsides of officers who did not take the plight of his Fiat seriously. Simon immediately jumped to his feet as he watched Gene march through the door.

"I hope you've got a description for me, Shoebury, because I need to know whose legs I'm going to be breaking later today," he said demurely.

Simon swallowed as he stared at Gene.,

"Gene," he began quietly, "I don't think you're going to be getting your car back."

Gene scowled.

"Ten minutes ago you assured me an imminent reunion with me motor was on the cards," he said.

Simon felt his heart racing.

"Well, that was before I saw this," he whispered. He aimed the remote at the video and rewound a few moments of footage again. Gene turned his attention to the TV screen, about to launch a tirade of abuse at Simon for watching too much TV when he realised what he was looking at. There was his car, sitting in his space. A moment later, it was gone.

"Video problem," Gene mumbled, "someone must have paused it."

"Come off it, Gene, look at the time code," Simon said quietly as he rewound it again, "there's no glitch. It kept recording." He looked at Gene nervously. "Your car did an Alex."

Gene was not happy about the phrase '_doing an Alex'_ passing into popular usage. He glowered at Simon, then turned back to the screen.

"Someone out there's got me bloody car," he said.

"Yes, _way_ out there," said Simon, "probably in your two thousand and bollocks, as you put it. Alex's desk is probably strapped to the roof rack!"

"Wash yer bloody mouth out!" cried Gene, "I did _not_ have a roof rack!"

"You know what I mean!" Simon rewound and played the footage one last time, just in case there was any doubt at all about what they had seen. He watched Gene shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Gene," he said quietly, "your car's gone."

Gene swallowed. He started to feel fairly weak in the legs.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"What?"

"Why my bloody car?" he asked.

Simon shrugged and shook hs head.

"I don't know, Gene," he said quietly, "I really don't. But it's…" he closed his eyes, "it's gone. I'm sorry."

Gene could only stare at the empty parking space on the screen as the footage continued to play. What the hell had even happened? How could a bloody great _car_ swap time zones and dimensions? It felt ridiculous – but no more so than time travelling turkeys. He closed his eyes and swallowed as he thought about it. Where was his car now?

One thing was for certain – he wouldn't be driving to Manchester that day.


	71. Chapter 37, 2012: Twelfth Night

**Chapter 37: 2012**

Kim could barely walk as she slumped exhaustedly from the bedroom to the kitchen. She had a blanket draped around her shoulders as though she'd just been evacuated from a sinking ship. She looked about as drained, too. With her eyes cast grimly downwards she barely noticed Alex sitting a little awkwardly at the kitchen table until she spoke.

"Kim, you look like I should be delivering you a food parcel," she said which made her jump a little as she turned to face Alex, "you look exhausted." She hesitated nervously, "is this… _good_ exhausted or _bad_ exhausted?" She cringed as she asked but she couldn't be sure. She'd been witness to a few things that she'd never wanted to while staying with Kim and Robin.

Unfortunately Kim's expression showed that this was not one of those occasions.

"Rob found out about Keats," she whispered shakily.

Immediately Alex' s expression fell. She felt her heart sink in her chest.

"Oh _no,"_ she sighed, "oh Kim, I'm _sorry_. What happened?" before Kim even had a chance to answer her first question she asked another; "How _is_ he?"

"Not good," Kim said quietly. She half-collapsed into a chair, the blanket still draped around her. "You know when a kid breaks their favourite toy and just keeps on crying and crying until they eventually wear themselves out so much they fall asleep?" she watched Alex nodding slowly, "that's pretty much what it was like." She looked down, staring at her fingers as she moved them slowly back and forth to distract her from what she'd just been through. "Except it wasn't really crying. Lots of screaming. Lots of self-destruction. Lots of begging me to stay away from him." Her eyes met Alex's and reflected every ounce of pain, "he thinks he's poison, ma'am. I don't know how I can make him understand otherwise."

Alex wished that she had some words of comfort for Kim but this wasn't exactly a normal situation. She shook her head slowly and said,

"All I can say is that it's going to take time, and it will take as long as it takes. No hurrying something like this, Kim. You knew that."

"I just want to take this away from him," Kim said quietly.

Alex looked at her sympathetically.

"How did he find out?" she asked, "did you tell him?"

"I didn't have the chance, ma'am," Kim put her had to her forehead, "oh god, I wish I'd just told him. It couldn't have been any harder than letting him find out the way he did."

"How _did_ it happen?"

"Someone at work told him about me looking at the Layton case evidence and he got suspicious. The twat mentioned the photograph so Robin went to look for it to find out why I'd taken it. He saw the bloody thing for himself."

Alex couldn't even begin to imagine what Robin had gone through the instant he saw the picture and realised the truth. She shook her head slowly, the desolate look on Kim's face breaking her heart.

"Kim," she said quietly, "I'm sorry. I really am. The important thing is that you are there for him now. You'll be there whenever he needs you. You'll get through this together."

"I just don't know if he can survive this," Kim said quietly, "you said yourself how much he's been through lately. This could be the final straw."

"He's come through worse than this," Alex looked at her seriously, "and this time he has you to help him. He'll be alright."

"I don't know if _I_ would be," Kim said quietly. She found her eyes drawn suddenly to Alex's hands. She wasn't sure why, perhaps just looking for something to distract her. She seemed to be holding her right wrist a little awkwardly. "Ma'am, is your hand OK?" Before Alex could respond she noticed a big scraze on her palm. "Shit, what happened?"

Alex glanced down, almost forgetting about her blackout for a moment. She tried desperately to hide it but it was already too late and Kim grasped her hand to take a closer look.

"It's nothing," she began but Kim was already off on a mothering streak.

"That's not nothing, look at the state of it," she said worriedly, "you need this cleaned and dressed."

"Don't be silly, it's only a scraze," Alex said quietly.

"Wait there," Kim got to her feet and started playing nursemaid. She began to fetch some water in a bowl along with some cotton wool and began to gently clean the area around the scraze which made Alex flinch.

"I suppose you had a lot of practice cleaning up grazed knees and hands with your boys – _ouch!"_ she said.

Kim looked slightly sheepish.

"More like cleaning up my own scrazes after drunken nights out in the nineties", she said with shame. She'd picked up a fair few injuries after becoming intimately acquainted with the curb at the end of a night of heavy drinking. She looked at Alex in concern as she checked her other hand and found only a light scrape. "What on earth happened? Are you OK? What about the baby?"

"Kim, stop fussing," Alex sighed, "I'm fine and the baby's fine. I had a…" she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She didn't want to sound crazy. "I had a funny turn in the car park. That's all."

"I _knew_ you'd been doing too much," Kim said, a little cross with herself for not being firmer with Alex on that matter earlier.

"That has nothing to do with it," Alex told her seriously, "I had a bit of a shock. I saw something unexpected."

"What do you mean?"

Alex looked down as Kim dried her scrazed palms.

"A blast from the past," she said quietly.

Kim seemed to freeze. Her eyes rose and met Alex's.

"Oh shit," she said quietly. She swallowed as a little guilt washed over her. "The car?"

Alex looked at her in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"That was kind of my fault," Kim said awkwardly. She bit her lip and leaned back in her chair. "Well, I mean, I didn't have a lot of _choice_… it was the one I was given but…"

"What do you mean?" Alex asked urgently, "Kim, how did it get here?" she hesitated, "It _is_ Gene's, isn't it?"

Kim nodded slowly.

"Oh yeah," she sighed, "latte holder and everything."

"Then where did it come from?"

Kim rubbed her forehead.

"I don't know, ma'am," she said quietly, "when Rob saw the photo he fled and took the car. I needed to borrow one of the car pool vehicles to get here as soon as I could. They just gave me the keys and told me where to find it – and then I found out what car it was. I was as shocked as you, I promise you. I didn't even think… I mean, I shouldn't have just left it there…"

"You had other things on your mind," Alex said with a sympathetic smile.

Kim looked down and nodded.

"Yeah," she said quietly. She busied herself applying some antiseptic to Alex's hands as gently as she could for a moment before she asked quietly, "Ma'am? How do you think it got here?"

Alex shook her head slowly.

"The same way as your desk?" she guessed, "I don't know, Kim, but something's really not right."

"What do you mean?"

Alex looked at Kim urgently.

"When I blacked out," she said quietly, "I saw things. I saw Gene. He's not doing well."

"What did you see?"

"He's giving up on me," it hurt to even think it, let alone say it. "He thinks I'm never coming back, Kim. I saw him. I saw him packing up his desk. He's going to leave or go to the pub or _something_, I don't know what but I don't think I have much time."

"We'll get you back, ma'am," Kim said as earnestly as she could, "I promise you. You'll make it back."

"I'm so scared for him." Alex admitted. She swallowed back tears that she was determined not to let out, "I haven't seen him like this before. He just looks…" she shook her head, _"empty."_

"You _will_ make it back," Kim told her, "and everything will be alright."

"I hope so," Alex whispered.

"Don't hope," Kim told her seriously, "_believe_." She paused as she watched those words sank in. Something about Kim's determination to help her boosted Alex's own strength somehow. She slowly nodded, knowing that she would have to continue to lean on Kim and Robin to support to the very end, not now as a _recovering patient_ but as a friend. She gave a weak smile as Kim sat back and looked at her wounds. "I don't think we have any plasters big enough for this," she said, then suddenly got to her feet as a lightbulb practically went on above her head. "Hang on –"

Alex watched curiously as Kim disappeared, then re-emerged with a large box that she recognised.

"That looks suspiciously like your tattooing kit," she commented.

Kim sat down and rummaged through for some large dressings.

"I knew I'd have some in here," she said.

"Genius," Alex smiled. The appearance of the tattoo kit took her back to the night Kim had given her the small tattoo to mark the place of her scar in Gene's world. Of course the tattoo had stretched a little now and she could only see it by looking in the mirror at a specific angle, her growing belly obscuring the view, but knowing it was there made all the difference. As she waited for Kim to finish dressing her hands she asked awkwardly, "Kim? Is there anything I can do to help with Robin?"

Kim let out her breath.

"I don't know," she said quietly, "he's asleep now, I crept out to make him something to eat. Some soup or bloody baked beans if that's what it takes to get him to eat something. He needs _something_. He's completely drained." She got to her feet, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, and threw the backing from the dressing in the rubbish bin. "You need something to eat too."

"I'm fine," Alex said quietly, "I've been force-fed cups of tea by well-meaning elderly ladies on the car park."

"That's not a meal," Kim pointed out. She started to rummage through the cupboard. "I'll make you both some soup," she said.

"What about you?" Alex asked.

"I'll eat later."

"No you won't," Alex admonished, "if you don't eat now you won't have anything. You've hardy eaten all week."

Kim looked a little self-conscious from Alex's comment.

"I've had a lot on my mind," she said quietly.

"If you don't start eating properly you'll be waking up in the car park with three old ladies asking if everything is alright, calling you dear and asking you if you take one lump or two," Alex told her, _"eat."_

Kim tried to glare but couldn't bring herself to.

"Fine," she mumbled, getting a third tin out the cupboard, "soup all round. Happy?"

"Blissfully," said Alex

As Kim busied herself heating up soup Alex kept one eye on her and the other on her hands to distract her from what she really didn't want to focus on. The car outside and the visions she'd seen had disturbed her greatly and she really didn't know whether she was going to make it back in time, however insistent Kim might have been. She just hoped that Gene could hold on for a little longer. She would soon be on her way.

~xXx~

Alex crossed the day off her list extremely emphatically. She needed to remind herself just how close she was now to the weekend and their journey.

"Two more days, Gene," she said as she put the lid back on her pen, "just two more days. You can hold on a little longer. I know it must be so, _so_ hard to believe it but I'm coming back. I'm on my way, and I'll make it, but you have to hold on for me. If I get home and find you're not there, there'll be hell to pay, Gene Hunt!" she closed her eyes and leaned back, trying to imagine what it would be like the moment she arrived, the first time she met his eye. It would be worth all the trouble she'd gone through to get there, and much more besides. "I'm just sorry that I can't bring your car back with me," she gave a gentle laugh as she imagined Gene's reaction when he found his beloved Fiat missing, "but I promise I'll leave it in good hands. There's a couple of your ex-colleagues here who I am sure will treat it with respect."

As she crawled into bed, still sore and bruised from her fall, she felt a bit like a kid counting down to Christmas.

_Three more sleeps_, she told herself.

Then she would be home.

~xXx~

Kim wasn't sure what was going on when she awoke on her own the following morning. Her head felt fuzzy, like it was full of cotton wool, but she hadn't been drinking so she could rule out a hangover. She realised that the heavy duty conversations she'd been through with Robin the day and night before were the cause, but where was Robin now? She sat up in concern, calling his name but her voice didn't seem to have much strength behind it. The highly charged emotions of the previous day had left her drained. She slowly climbed out of bed and reached for the first thing that came to hand to warm her shoulders. It was Robin's work shirt.

"Great, now I've had an impromptu transfer to uniform," she mumbled as she slumped out of the bedroom. She was confused by the normal, natural sounds and smells that were coming from the kitchen and bewildered to find Robin just as she would have perhaps expected him, beside the oven, spatula in hand, dominating a pan full of hissing, spitting bacon.

"Rob?" she rubbed her eyes and tried to make sense of it. Although the situation was one she knew well there was something out of place; not quite right. It was the look on Robin's face; haunted, empty and harrowed.

He turned to her and a look of relief washed over him.

"I couldn't wake you," he said a little anxiously, "I was worried. You must have been exhausted. This was the only thing I could think of doing."

"Attacking bacon with extreme prejudice?"

"Making you some breakfast."

Kim's stomach lurched at the thought of eating. Her worries were far too strong to entertain the thought of food but she couldn't very well tell Robin that. She gave a slightly awkward smile and asked,

"How are you doing?"

Robin looked down.

"How am I _supposed_ to be doing?" he asked.

"I don't think there's any kind of precedent for this," Kim said quietly. She tried to reach towards him but he quickly moved away. Seeing that action stung her heart. "Rob, no, _stop_," she said firmly, "_please_. You have to stop doing that. You're not going to hurt me, not in any way. But you _will_ if you keep pushing me away."

Robin looked down, his emotions wavering between guilt and feeling like he had no choice.

"I don't want to push you away," he whispered.

"Then _don't_," Kim told him, "_Stop_."

Robin flinched as she put her hands on his shoulders and stopped him from moving away. He tried so hard not to, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was the knowledge of what Keats had done to Kim in the past, knowing how badly his terrible actions had affected her, and knowing that he shared the same genetics as that most evil of all men, there was an irrational part of him that felt as though he'd hurt Kim too.

There were so many things he had to come to terms with. It was going to take a very long time. For hours he and Kim had talked, cried and even screamed but they both knew this was only going to be the tip of the iceberg.

Both were thankful that they had the day off work. They'd both made sure they would be at home since Alex had insisted that she needed them for the day, but their day off was turning out to be necessary in other ways too. Neither could have coped with work after the traumatic day before.

Kim insisted on standing right beside him as he finished cooking the bacon, clinging to him for much of the time as though to try to desensitise him from his fear of touching and hurting her, even though that meant that hot fat spat on her more than once during the course of the rest of the cooking. Just as the bacon was just about finished Alex finally braved the kitchen. She'd been up for a while but wanted to give them as much privacy as she was able to. However, eventually the smell of the bacon drove her a little too crazy and she had to investigate.

"That smells like heaven," she said, sniffing the air deeply. It reminded her of one of Gene's standard post-booze breakfasts except with more actual bacon than lard.

"Ma'am?" Kim looked around quickly, "how are you feeling?"

Alex glanced at the dressings on her hands, feeling a little embarrassed about her strange turn.

"A bit sore, but I think I'll live," she said. Even as she spoke she realised what an ironic choice of words that was.

"Bacon sandwich, Alex?" Robin offered.

"Yes please," Alex said, trying not to sound too eager. The glorious smell was driving her crazy and although Kim had very kindly furnished her with soup the night before it wasn't quite up to the standard of a Robin-cooked breakfast.

A slightly awkward silence fell as Robin finished making the bacon sandwiches and served them up at the table. The elephants had not yet been evacuated from the room. Kim picked at her bacon, forcing a few mouthfuls of the sandwich and looking less enthusiastic with each one while Alex found her dressings getting in the way and the cause for more than one verbal tirade against her hands. Ironically Robin was the only one who seemed able to eat properly, his bacon sandwich quickly disappearing amid a couple of comments about how he would like to try a bacon and baked bean version one day.

"We should probably take the Christmas tree down today," Kim said quietly at one point, "since we're both at home and the decorations should be down by tonight."

"I'm never too sure when twelfth night is," Robin said as he turned his sandwich round a couple of times.

"I always took it as the night of the fifth," Alex piped up.

That was the moment that all three realised this was the lamest conversation any of them had ever been involved in. The biggest issues of their lives were hanging in the air but all they could bring themselves to talk about were _decorations?_ For some time they all stopped talking. Kim stared at her sandwich, trying to will herself to eat some more, while Robin worked out his next rhythm for his baked bean drum kit in his head. Alex pondered the twelfth night question some more as she finished eating her sandwich and licked her fingertips as discretely as possible.

"Alex, what happened to your hands?" Robin noticed the dressings for the first time.

"Oh," Alex blushed a little. She felt extremely stupid for having such a pathetic accident the night before. "I just had a bit of a fall last night. I'm fine. Kim helped me clean my hands up."

"A fall?" Robin looked anxious.

"Before you ask, the baby and I are _fine_," Alex sighed.

"What happened?" Robin asked, "did you trip over the bollards?"

"No I did not!" Alex cried indignantly, "I had a shock, not a moment of stupidity!"

"Oh god, Rob, I never told you, did I?" Kim gave up trying to eat any more and laid her sandwich down, "something a bit… _unexpected_ happened yesterday. When I took a car from work to get home it was fairly… _familiar."_

"What do you man?" Robin asked.

"Gene's pride and joy," Alex explained "his Fiat. That's what gave me my shock. _Not_ bollards."

"Gene's car… what?" Robin wasn't sure he'd followed the thread properly.

"Another thing has crossed over," Kim explained, "didn't expect a car to do that."

Robin seemed to hesitate. His mind went back to something from the day before, from long before his day had turned into a nightmare.

"Oh bugger."

"What?"

Robin rubbed his forehead.

"I bet _Gene's_ got my bloody _chair."_

"Your _chair_ vanished?" Kim asked.

"As I was about to sit on it." Robin fidgeted in his seat, one buttock still bruised.

silence fell again for a moment until Kim got up a little suddenly.

"Excuse me," she said quietly.

"What's the matter?" Robin asked.

Kim seemed uncomfortable and awkward.

"Bacon's not sitting very well," she said quietly and left, Robin staring after her anxiously.

"I… did I cook it badly?" he suddenly panicked. He'd never had a problem cooking bacon before.

"I think she's feeling a little too stressed to eat," Alex said quietly.

Robin looked down and nodded slowly. He'd already known that. Food had just been a way to distract himself that morning and a way to try to make up to Kim in some small way for all that the discovery was putting her through. He worried he'd made things worse rather than better.

"If I'm honest I didn't really want this myself at first," he said quietly, leaving the last piece of sandwich on his plate.

Alex took a deep breath and cleared her throat a little awkwardly. She glanced to the doorway but there was no sign of Kim returning so she began quietly,

"While it's just you and me, I wanted to speak to you about something. Well, a couple of things."

Robin looked a little nervous.

"Oh?" he frowned.

Alex gave a deep sigh. She looked at him rather fondly. Now that she was on the verge of making the journey to Manchester and finding her way home she was starting to realise there were some things – and people – she was going to miss.

"That's twice you've bailed me out now," she said with a sentimental smile, "twice you've come to my rescue when I've woken up. Taken me in and helped me."

"I wasn't going to leave you to fend for yourself, was I?" Robin said with a slight smile. He was slightly in denial that the approaching weekend more or less meant saying goodbye to Alex until such times as something saw to beginning his own journey to the nineties.

"Even so it's not proving very easy to find a way to thank you," Alex said quietly, "a bunch of flowers and a card isn't exactly appropriate."

"You don't need to thank me," Robin told her honestly, "just promise me that you'll make the most of every moment when you get home. Life's too precious to waste a second."

Alex nodded slowly.

"Already planning to," she said with a smile. Her expression became a little more serious and she straightened up in her chair. "There's one important thing that I have to ask you," she said quietly.

Robin shrugged a little.

"Anything," he said.

Alex hesitated.

"When I make it back," she began quietly, "what do you want me to tell Simon," she paused, "about you and Kim?"

Robin felt his expression falling as Alex's words sank in. He froze where he was, his brain hardly able to work out how to respond as his eyes looked downward. He gave a slightly nervous laugh and said,

"Alex, I… I don't know. It's not like I haven't gone over and over that same question in my head a hundred times. It's just, I always thought that whenever the time came… I'd be able to at least tell him in person. I wasn't expecting anyone to be in your position. And I know it's putting you in a really awkward position because he's bound to ask about me… of course he will… I don't want you to have to be the one caught up in the middle…"

"I don't have to say anything if you don't want me to," Alex said quietly.

Robin shook his head slowly.

"I don't want you to have to cover up for me either," he said quietly.

Alex bit her lip awkwardly.

"Robin," she began quietly, "I hate to even ask you this but, do you actually have any idea what you're going to do… if you ever go back"?" she could see from his expression that this was something he'd been torturing himself over, "I can see how much you and Kim mean to each other. I've rarely seen two people happier. But I also remember how you were when you arrived with Simon… all the things that you said the last time I was here. You said that he was the only one for you and you would never want to be with anyone else."

Robin nodded slowly.

I know," he said quietly. He felt his cheeks burning. "God, Alex, you've no idea how much guilt I've been through over this, especially at the start. I feel like I'm cheating on Simon, even though he's a while world away and told me specifically he wanted me to meet someone and be happy." His face turned a little darker. "I'm pretty sure he didn't mean Kim though."

"If you woke up there tomorrow," Alex began, "what would you do?"

Robin gave her a slightly wary look.

"Is this psychologist Alex coming out now?" he asked but he was only teasing. He looked down at his hands. "Alex, I asked myself that day after day for weeks and I never came to a conclusion. After everything Simon and I went through… after he went back the first time… and we had so much history, I mean years and years we knew each other and then we were together..." He shook his head slowly as he continued, "maybe we took too much time… it wasn't until he had his accident that we realised how short life really was. It was only then that we moved in together and started looking at a more serious future. Hardly a whirlwind romance."

"Unlike you and Kim?" Alex pointed out. She noted the corner of his mouth twitching involuntarily into a smile.

"Shit, me and Kim," he shook his head, "things couldn't have been more different with us . It all just… _exploded._ It's so fiery. It was never like that with Simon." He looked down, feeling guilty for even saying those things, "and now we've been living together for months, we're trying to have a baby, I just want to spend my life with her… all this stuff, it took years for me and Simon to look to the future like that. We certainly never thought about having a family or anything like that. And it's not because Kim's a woman, it's really not. Maybe it's because we've both learned the hard way how fragile life is. Makes us want to make the most of every moment." He looked back at Alex. "And I'm terrified… _terrified_ of losing her. But as for what I'd do… I don't think that I'll know until… _if_… that day comes, when I find myself face to face with Simon again." he swallowed as he realised how much he hoped he wouldn't have to face that impossible decision for a long time yet.

Alex looked at him sympathetically. She didn't envy his position nor the decision he would ultimately have to make.

"In that case," she said quietly "I'll just tell him that you've met someone who makes you very happy. But that doesn't mean you'll ever stop loving him, and you will always miss him."

Robin tried to smile but it waivered with emotion.

"Thank you," he whispered. He found himself all mixed up again, just like he was in the early days with Kim, but vocalising the way he felt and talking over his feelings with another person had started to bring some clarity, not just to the dilemma that he'd been facing for months but also to his present situation. As much as he was trying to avoid thinking about his terrible discovery from the previous day for just a little while he started to realise one thing – how much more it was hurting him by pushing Kim away. While he truly felt in one way that he was doing the right thing, in another he realised how much it must be hurting her – and if he was honest it was just causing himself more pain too.

He stood up and mumbled something incoherent to Alex to excuse himself then set off to look for Kim quickly. He found her in the bedroom, curled up in bed and looking somewhat exhausted and under the weather. _As though she hadn't been under enough stress lately, _he thought to himself.

"Kim?" he said quietly, watching as she turned over and caught his eye.

"Oh, hey," she began to sit up, "I'm sorry, I wasn't feeling –"

Her words were cut off by a firm hand on her shoulder, pressing her back to the bed as he whispered,

"Just stay where you are, Kim. Don't get up."

"Rob -?"

Robin pulled back the covers and climbed in beside her.

"I need you," he whispered.

Kim wasn't sure she understood what was going on.

"I'm right here," she began but he shook his head.

"I _really_ need you," he told her. He slipped his hands around her face, terrified that she was going to pull away and prove that he was right to keep her at arm's length after all, but she didn't. She whispered his name in confuse, then relief as she felt him pulling her towards him, fighting the urge to pull away from her again, giving in to the way he felt about her instead of the fear that he was some kind of poison. When finally she felt his lips against hers with no sign of hesitation or fear her whole body gasped in relief and in need. She had feared he would never be able to let her get close to him again. Now he was starting to let her in.

She held him, she kissed him and she touched him; she let him feel that no DNA was going to change what they had between them. There was a very long way to go still and one step forward wasn't going to change the way he felt about himself now that he knew about his roots but it was a start, and from there they would be able to move forward together.

_One step at a time._

~xXx~

Kim felt a little guilty as she finally tiptoed into the lounge around lunchtime. She felt even more so when she found Alex had started to dismantle the tree.

"Oh, Ma'am, what on earth are you doing?" she admonished, "you leave that alone, me and Rob will do that."

"I was just trying to keep myself busy while I was waiting for you to finish…" she raised an eyebrow, "well, to _finish_," she said, noticing Kim's flustered demeanour. She knew she was being cruel but she did so enjoy teasing her. She and Gene had taken enough stick for some of their exploits, it was fun to get some revenge, and she knew that Kim took it in good spirits, despite the blushing.

"It wasn't like that, ma'am," Kim protested.

"Oh come on, I heard everything," Alex chided her.

"What happened to the lovely earplugs we bought you for Christmas?" Kim cried which made Alex laugh a little more.

"Kim, it's fine," she said, "I took advantage of the time anyway."

Alex had realised that hadn't made any arrangements for what came after her trip to Manchester. Inside she knew this was going to be a one-way journey and that whatever happened after, she wouldn't still be there to find out. She had written out several lists, one of people to contact after _the end was nigh_, one of financial arrangements and one of her plans for her funeral, which had been very strange to write. She lifted the three envelopes and handed them to Kim.

"What's this?"

"These are for after I'm gone," Alex said quietly.

Kim looked a little horrified.

"God, that's morbid," she shuddered.

"That _is_ what Saturday is about," Alex reminded her, "there's only one way home."

Kim nodded slowly. She knew that. She just didn't want to think about it.

"Alright," she said quietly.

"There are three more envelopes in the drawer beside my bed," Alex continued, "one is for you and Robin. One is for Evan, and one is for Molly."

Kim felt a lump in her throat. These were aspects of Alex's mission to get back home that she wasn't prepared for.

"OK, she said quietly."

Alex pulled another string of silver bells from the tree and began to wind them around hr. hand.

"I wanted to talk to you," she said., "there's something I wanted you to know."

Kim bit her lip. Usually she'd have made a jokey comment but she couldn't bring herself to on this occasion.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"I wanted to say how happy I am to see Kim Stringer back," Alex told her.

Kim hesitated. She wasn't sure what she meant.

"I… I don't really understand, ma'am."

Alex looked at her seriously.

"The Kim I met when I woke up the first time wasn't the same Kim I knew in the nineties," she explained, "you'd changed so much and you didn't seem happy with who you were."

Kim looked down a little self-consciously. She understood what Alex meant.

"I spent years trying to hide from what happened," she said quietly, "I tried to outrun everything about who I used to be."

"But you're back," Alex said seriously, "and happier than I've ever seen you. I'm so glad to see that."

Kim's smile was a little awkward and nervous.

"When we helped you before, she said quietly, "that was the catalyst for me. The past started creeping back and I couldn't fight it." She shook her head, "didn't _want_ to fight it."

"Good, said Alex, "I'm glad you didn't."

Kim gave another nervous smile, then looked away thoughtfully, absently pulling a few baubles off the tree.

"Ma'am?" she said.

"Hmm?"

"What are you going to tell the Guv about his car when you get back?"

Alex choked out a laugh that caught her unawares. She couldn't help it. The question had caught her off-guard.

"I'm going to tell him," she began, "that it's in good hands."

"I'll have to return it to the car pool," Kim told her.

Alex shook her head.

"I don't think you will," she said, "I just have a feeling."

"What do you mean?"

"I think that car was meant for you every bit as much as my desk was," Alex told her.

Despite herself Kim couldn't help but give a little smirk.

"I can just imagine Gene's thoughts on lady drivers," she commented.

"I'm serious, Kim," Alex told her, "I think that car was meant to find its way to you. Why, I don't know. But it was."

Kim felt a little awkward. There were times when she still felt like that young woman back in the 90s, lost in a strange world.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Alex smiled, then turned her focus to the tree beside them.

"Well," she said, "Is Robin going to help us with this or are we on our own?"

"He's asleep, said Kim, "He's exhausted."

"Too much information."

"_No,"_ Kim sighed, "from the whole _thing_. Yesterday. Last night."

"And from whatever made you yell, '_no, Rob, not yet, I haven't got the handcuffs on'?"_ Alex raised an eyebrow.

Kim turned the colour of a beetroot and became extremely busy taking down a string of tinsel.

"Maybe you need to have another go at finding those earplugs tonight, ma'am," she said in shame.


	72. Chapter 37, 1997: Sage Advice

_**A/N: Really finding typing hard this week so please, please forgive increasingly awful typos! I swear my typing will get better once I do :D**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 37: 1997**

Gene stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he splashed his face with water. He was a man without a car. A hollow, worthless shell of a man without a car.

_I am Gene Hunt. I drive, therefore I am._

Ever since the moment he discovered his car had vanished the day before he had been working his way through the various stages of grief. However, he seemed to reach anger fairly quickly and never really move beyond it. There had been a lot of yelling, a lot of door slamming and a lot of very bad language. Finally he'd gone to sleep and had nightmares about sobbing cars who missed their owners before waking up early and mumbling to himself about bloody time warps.

So, his plans had changed. That was for definite. His car was a thing of the past and his plan to head to Manchester was down the proverbial toilet. He would have to shift his plans over by a couple of days, that was the only thing for it. It was a Sunday, so there wasn't very much he could do anyway and he decided to send the day choosing a new car. He'd purchase it the next day get a feel for the thing and then on Tuesday he'd make his journey.

He started thinking about the time he had left. He wasn't a believer in any of that _everything happens for a reason_ bollocks but there were perhaps one or two positives to staying for a couple more days. He realised that, although he had no intention of telling Simon where he was going or what he was intending to do, he owed him some kind of goodbye. Simon had, after a rocky start, shown him a lot of support and friendship when he needed it most and just walking out without finding a way to thank him for that seemed wrong.

He set out fairly early for Gene that morning and returned with a couple of lattes and a bundle of magazines; _What Car? Top Gear_ and _So Your car's Gone To The Future Leaving You Without A Set Of Wheels?_ OK, so perhaps the last one was merely what he had asked for sarcastically at the newsagent but he still thought it would be a good idea for a magazine.

"What's all this?" a slightly bleary-eyed Simon emerged from his bedroom, "lattes? On a _Sunday?"_

"Don't knock it, Shoebury," Gene warned, "take too long drinking the damn thing and it might end up in some other time zone."

Simon sank into a chair at the kitchen table and pulled the lid from his drink.

"Most people just say '_drink it before it gets cold'_," he said.

"It _will_ be bloody cold if you leave it until two thousand and bollocks," said Gene.

"Evaporated, you mean," said Simon. He sipped his latte and looked at Gene in confusion. "Why are you not hitting things and swearing?"

"Trying to look on the bright side," Gene forced himself to say, even though there really wasn't one, "about time I got a new car. One without suspicious stains in the back."

"Oh yeah?" Simon sipped from his latte," what are you thinking of getting?"

"If I tell you, is there _any_ chance you're going to know what I'm talking about?" Gene asked.

Simon hesitated.

"Probably not," he said.

"Thought not," said Gene, "then let's just say _'a black one'_ shall we?"

Simon sighed.

"Fine by me," he said. He frowned as Gene approached the oven. "Uh, perhaps I'm hallucinating but… you appear to be making your way towards the hobs and putting a frying pan on them," he said.

"Making you the Gene Genie special," Gene told him, "Fry-up in a butty. Bacon, egg, fried tomato. "

Simon frowned.

"Why? You're not hung-over, are you?"

"No," said Gene, "but only because I forgot to bring me bloody scotch home last night."

Simon rubbed his eyes. It was all a bit overwhelming for first thing on a Sunday morning.

"I think I've gone to a parallel universe," he said.

"One word about red Dwarf and you'll be wearing these eggs on yer head instead," Gene threatened.

~xXx~

"This sandwich is a bit more complex than I'm used to," Simon said suspiciously as he tried to take a bite and got a whole fried egg sliding down his shirt for his trouble.

"Wimp," Gene mumbled through a mouthful of fried fare. He thought carefully as he chewed and gulped down the greasy sandwich, then he looked back at Simon. "I s'pose I should say this."

"Say what? That you'll pay for the dry cleaning of my shirt?" Simon raised an eyebrow.

"Ha bloody ha, remind me to get a ticket for yer stand-up debut," said Gene. He laid down the rest of his sandwich for a moment. "No, I should say thank you."

"What for?" Simon frowned.

Gene glanced around.

"Sticking a roof over me head when I was falling apart," he said, "I appreciate what you've done for me."

Simon frowned as he looked at Gene's expression. He wasn't sure where this was going.

"I was just trying to help," he said, "Anyone would have done the same."

"But they didn't," Gene pointed out. He rubbed his forehead and wrinkled up his nose. "Look, I don't really do friendship, Simon. Doesn't pay to. You get to know someone then you say goodbye and never even get a Christmas card. But you've been a good friend to me."

Simon frowned and stared on.

"OK," he began, "who are you and what have you done with Gene Hunt?"

Gene reached across the table and grabbed Simon by the collar.

"That's what I get for trying to be one of yer new age, hippy, _feeling_ idiots!" he cried, "nice show of respect there, Shoebury! Is _that_ better?"

Simon gagged and pulled Gene's hands away from his strangling neckline.

"Much better," he rasped.

"_Good_," said Gene. He took a big bite of his sandwich to calm down a bit before he attempted to continue. Sharing feelings wasn't a very bloody rewarding experience, Gene decided. He wiped tomato juice from his mouth on his sleeve and looked at Simon seriously again. "When you showed up in me office in nineteen eighty five my first thought was –"

"To jump out the window and run away?" Simon guessed.

"Not far from the truth," sighed Gene, "no, me first thought was,_ bloody hell, what have I done to deserve this one? _Thought, _I'm in for a right nightmare here, _and you almost proved me right." He sighed. "But you came through in the end. And when you stepped back here ten years later..." he sighed, "maybe we'd _both_ changed enough to call a truce. And in the end, you were a pretty decent bloke. I suppose."

"Thanks," Simon thought that was probably as close to a compliment as he was going to get from Gene, "I think."

Gene managed to gulp down most of the remainder of his sandwich in one go before he continued.

"I know it's not been easy for you," he said, "thrown in at the deep end. Never seen that happen before. You must have _something_ going for you. Not yer taste in TV shows, that's for certain."

"Hey," frowned Simon.

"You've had yer ups and downs but you'll get there," Gene told him, "takes a while to find yer feet. And no, that's not a shoe joke before you jump down me throat." He mopped up some escaped grease and juice with the last of his sandwich and finished that off before he continued. "I know we've had our moments and I'm not the easiest person to get on with –" his sentence was cut short by an explosive spluttering laugh from Simon which earned him a stern glare. "That's it – I'm not doing the touchy feely thing any more!"

"Oh, no, _please_," Simon felt guilty as he watched Gene stand up and take his plate to the sink, "I'm sorry… please, what were you going to say?"

"More things for you to act like a laughing hyena at," said Gene.

"Really Gene, I won't laugh," Simon promised. He looked at Gene hopefully. "What were you going to say?"

Gene glared at Simon for a few more moments, then eventually he sighed and sank back down into his chair.

"I think," he continued, "for two people poles apart, we've done OK."

Simon nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he agreed, "I think we have too."

Gene shuffled a little in his chair to get comfortable. He looked back at Simon again.

"Got three pieces of advice for you," he said, "three bits of wisdom to help you survive in this place."

"Gene, what _is_ all this about?" Simon asked, "why am I getting a lecture?"

"Not a lecture," said Gene, "just trying to help you out. Number one, eleven fifty three."

Simon frowned.

"You what?"

"Eleven fifty three precisely," said Gene, "that's when you go to the canteen. That's when the woman with the fat arse goes for her fag break, before the lunchtime rush. You have two minutes to get in, sneak behind the counter, get the _real_ food she keeps for the high ups... the DSIs and snooty big-wigs, and the get the hell out of there before she finds you and you get a colander in the 'ead."

Simon nodded slowly.

"That is a highly valuable piece of advice," he said gratefully.

"Number two," Gene continued, "New recruits." He reached out and gripped Simon's collar again, causing him to gag and gasp in shock, "_this_ is how you do it, Shoebury – the trick is, when you get 'em by the collar you give it a little twist," he demonstrated, much to Simon's horror, "which not only helps to choke the bugger but also helps to get them at a better angle for pushing against the filing cabinet. You see?"

With his face turning an interesting shade of purple and his eyes bulging from their sockets Simon gasped an agreement.

"I see," he gagged as Gene finally let go. It took Simon a few moments to get his breath back and make sure his neck was still intact before he finally looked back at Gene with trepidation, "and number three?" he asked, "what body part does _that_ involve mortal injury to?"

Gene shook his head.

"Number three," he said with a sigh, "things change." He saw Simon's expression become a little sad. "Don't expect yer life to always stay the same because it won't. This place moves around you like the insides of a bloody lava lamp. Morphing and changing, dependant on who comes and goes. You'll skip months, You'll go back a year. Time will jump back and forth like a hula-hooping gymnast on speed. People will come and go. The floor'll fall away beneath you and you'll find yerself in a different place, even though you've not gone anywhere. I made the mistake of forgetting that." He looked at Simon seriously, "don't make the same mistake that I did."

Simon stared at Gene. He didn't know where all of this was coming from, but it made sense to him. Very slowly, he nodded.

"I'll try," he said quietly.

That seemed to be the end of Gene's words of wisdom for the day as he fell silent after that, busying himself with his car magazines, trying to select his next set of wheels. His unusually open comments had left Simon a little shaken and confused. He hoped that Gene was alright. He wasn't even pissed which was the usual cause of an occasional outpouring of deep thought. Whatever the cause, he'd given Simon a few things to think about too. 1997 was certainly shaping up to be one hell of a weird year.


	73. Chapter 38, 2012: Final Curtain

**Chapter 38: 2012**

"Why does it always seem to take twice as long taking down decorations as putting them up?" Kim grumbled as she jammed the last limbs of the artificial tree into the box and somehow forced the lid closed "Ugh, got it!" She dragged the box to the side of the room with a hefty sigh. "Thanks so much for all your help."

"No problem," Alex smiled.

A sad look fell over Kim's face as she stared at Alex.

"Ma'am?" she said, "I'm really going to miss you."

Alex's expression fell a little. She had been trying hard not to think about that.

"I'll miss you too, Kim," she said quietly, "you and Robin have been wonderful hosts, and very dear friends."

"It's been like a taste of the past," Kim said fondly. She sat down and started sweeping up a few fallen twinkly bits from the decorations. "It's been so nice having some female company too."

"You've got a boyfriend on the verge of picking maternity clothes and booking antenatal classes, how much more female do you want?" Alex teased, glad to see a smile from Kim. "Seriously, thank you for everything you've done for me. If you and Robin hadn't been there I have no idea what would have happened." She shuddered as she remembered the threat of the long term care she'd have been under.

Robin felt somewhat self-conscious and guilty as he finally emerged from the bedroom, looking sleepy and dishevelled.

"God, I'm so sorry," he mumbled in embarrassment, "I don't know what happened, I just passed out."

"You needed the sleep," Kim said gently as she got to her feet. She stepped towards him. "How are you doing?"

Robin gave a slightly nervous smile.

"Not sure yet," he said quietly, "give me time to wake up." He bit his lip as he realised how bare the room was, "Oh _no_, I'm so sorry, I was supposed to be doing that too –"

"Doesn't matter," Kim pushed him gently but firmly towards a char, "sit down. We've got it covered."

"Well, we've got the _floor_ covered," Alex corrected, "with bits of _tinsel_. Where's your hoover."

"You're not vacuuming," Kim told her sternly, "you've already done too much lately."

"I'll do it," Robin began to get out of the chair but Kim pushed him back down.

"You're still half asleep," she said, "I'll hoover the damn thing."

"_You_ look paler than _he_ does," Alex told her, "stop fussing over everyone else and take your own advice, get some rest."

"Well _someone's_ got to vacuum the floor!" Kim protested.

"Then we'll draw straws later," Alex told her, "just sit down for a minute. I have something for the two of you."

Kim and Robin exchanged a glance as Alex got to her feet and left the room. They gave each other a little shrug. She hadn't mentioned a gift so neither was sure what she was going to issue them with. Kim perched on the air of the chair where Robin was sitting and awaited their present.

"Oh, I hope it's not a copy of Evan's new autobiography," Kim groaned.

Robin seemed to turn very green all of a sudden.

"His what?" he demanded.

"You haven't heard?" Kim bit her lip nervously. _Great_, just what Robin needed – _more_ shocks.

"No," he said weakly, "please tell me it's not as bad as it sounds?"

Kim stroked his hair comfortingly.

"It's called _Evan White: Living Without My Beard."_

Robin swallowed hard to stop his breakfast from making a surprise reappearance. He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to prevent himself from screaming in fear, and finally said,

"Just as I suspected. _Worse_ than it sounds."

Thankfully Alex returned just then with a bag that seemed to contain a few items rather than a highly unwise book.

"I really didn't know how to thank you both for everything that you've done for me," she said seriously, "but I wanted to give you something."

"Ma'am, you don't have to –" Kim protested.

"I just wanted to," Alex told her, "no arguments." She handed a rather impressive, velvety box to Kim. "I know you have a problem with disappearing pens but hopefully this one might stick around," she said as Kim opened the box with a 'click' to reveal a silver pen, engraved with her name. It took her by surprise – it wasn't the sort of thing she'd ever been given before. It was a far more elegant gift than she was used to receiving.

"Ma'am," she whispered, "I don't know what to say – it's _beautiful."_

"It had better stay put," Alex warned it, "and Robin, I know your trouble has been with timepieces," her eyes flickered to the clock that stopped on Christmas Eve. The new batteries had made no difference, it was simply dead. She pulled a rather heavy box out of the bag and handed it to Robin who opened it curiously. Inside was a smart and slightly decorative mantelpiece clock.

"Alex," his lips twitched into a smile, "I wasn't expecting anything like this… thank you… thank you so much."

"The receipt is in the bag," Alex told him, "so if anything unusual happens to it you can get it replaced."

Robin couldn't help but laugh.

"I appreciate that," he said, "and I probably will. Have to get it replaced, I mean. Clocks and watches hate me."

Alex smiled.

"Which just leaves this," she said, reaching into her bag one last time, "for both of you. To remember me by."

She handed one last item to the pair who couldn't help laughing as soon as they saw it.

"_Hot Hits from the Nineties,"_ Kim read from the front of the CD, "thanks for that, Ma'am."

"We'll picture you and Gene dancing away whenever we play it," Robin promised with a smile.

"Not that I'm going to be up to dancing for a little while," Alex sighed.

Kim laughed again at the unusual gift.

"Thank you for this," she said, "and for my pen. It's just beautiful."

"This really is too much," Robin told her.

Alex shook her head.

"It's not enough," she said, "not really. But it's the least I can do."

A sad silence started to fall over them as they began to realise that the time they had together was truly limited now. While Alex needed to find her way home that didn't mean her friends weren't going to miss her terribly and while they knew she was going back to the people and places that needed her they knew she would leave a gap in their lives.

~xXx~

It was very strange to see one day left between herself and Manchester when Alex crossed the day off her list that night. She felt a strange tingling through her body, a buzz of excitement that made her feel the need to stop and catch her breath. The thought that she could be back with Gene so soon after all those weeks felt very strange indeed. It reminded her of booking a holiday and feeling like it would never arrive then suddenly realising you're leaving in six hours and haven't packed your case yet.

"Just hold on, Gene," she said determinedly, "I'm on my way. One more day and then I'll be on my way."

~xXx~

"Are you absolutely sure there's nothing that you want us to do before we leave?" Kim asked anxiously, knowing full well that Alex hadn't shared her plans for her final day.

"I'm sure," said Alex, "and besides, it sounds like you both have enough on your plates for the day as it is." She paused as she listened to the strange mix of noises, "what _exactly_ is Robin doing?"

Kim closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

"He's throwing up, cursing his bladder, rubbing his swollen ankles, sobbing that his trousers and too tight and claiming everyone's being horrible to him," she sighed a little reluctantly.

"All at the same time?" frowned Alex.

"He's good at multi-tasking," Kim explained, feeling a little embarrassed.

"He's still having… _problems?"_ Alex asked quietly.

"Increasingly so," Kim sighed. She shook her head. "Honestly, Ma'am, I swear I heard him picking out names the other day. And now there's all of this bloody Keats stuff… I'm really worried about him. I don't think he can take any more."

"I think he's doing better than I would have expected, considering," Alex told her, "he's lucky that he's got you. You'll help him through."

"I'm trying, but I'm not sure I'm doing much," Kim said quietly. She sank into a chair, feeling her energy fading before the day had even started. "Shit, I wish I didn't have to go to work."

"Can you call in sick?" Alex asked quietly, "you look exhausted.

"I'm already going to have to explain where I disappeared to with the car the day before yesterday," Kim said miserably, "they're not going to be very happy if I take another day off."

Robin finally emerged looking less than enthusiastic from the bathroom.

"Sorry," he mumbled, a little embarrassed.

"You OK, Rob?" Kim asked him quietly.

"Fine," Robin said quietly. They both knew he was lying but time was getting on and they both had to get to work.

"We'd better go then," Kim said tiredly. She hoisted herself out of the chair. "Rob, I've got to take the pool car back. Can you drive yourself and we'll come home together?"

"No problem," Robin assured her.

They both said their goodbyes to Alex before leaving for the day and Alex found herself alone in the flat.

"_For the last time,"_ she said quietly.

Her eyes scanned the kitchen. She realised how much of her time there she had spent in that room. Perhaps it was because of Robin's fondness for cooking that they spent a lot of time sitting around in there. It seemed to be used more than the lounge. Either way, she had grown particularly fond of the space.

She got to her feet and walked slowly around the table, a sad smile upon her face. She was completely focused on getting home, as much so as ever before, but _oh,_ she would miss certain aspects of the way she'd sent the last couple of months. It seemed strange to think that she was saying goodbye to so much – to her old way of life, to the real world, to the twenty-first century –

To Molly.

Her heart sank as she thought about the text she received that morning from Molly. It was just a quick, simple message asking how Alex was and boasting about a score she got in a test but it was the kind of message that brought home to Alex how much she was giving up. She knew she had to get home, she really did, but _fuck,_ this was difficult. She felt physically sick at the thought of what she was doing to Molly, leaving her without a mother, choosing another life over her.

"It's so complicated," Alex whispered to herself as she wished there were some other way. But she knew there wasn't.

This was her last day.

Suddenly that was a very daunting concept indeed.

~xXx~

"Look, you don't understand," Kim was starting to get a migraine. In fact, she'd had one coming on since the moment she woke up but the idiot at the desk was definitely hurrying things along swiftly. "I borrowed the car on Wednesday. It was an emergency, I didn't sign the papers, the guy just gave me the keys and told me the car was in Bay Seventeen."

"Ma'am, I understand what you're saying but there _is_ no bay seventeen," the man told her from beneath his hat which was at least two sizes too big for him and covered the top half of his face, "The CID car pool only goes up to number fifteen."

"Then where the fuck did I get this car?" Kim cried

The officer shrugged a little nervously.

"Nicked it?" he suggested. He saw, despite his hat, a murderous look on Kim's face and backed away slightly. "I don't know what to tell you, ma'am. We have no record of a ninety five Fiat Coupe as part of the CID car pool," he pressed a couple of buttons on the computer and frowned, "but it is registered to someone who works here."

"Then tell me who it is so I can give them back their car before they throw me in a cell thinking I buggered off with it!" cried Kim.

"Just one minute," he said as the computer scanned the database, then pinged when the result arrived, "it's registered to a DI Stringer."

Kim stared at him, aghast.

"Is this some kind of joke?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?"

_"I'm_ bloody DI Stringer!" cried Kim, wishing there wasn't a window covering half of the space in front of her. She would have liked to employ some Gene Hunt-esque collar-grabbing tactics to get the man talking sense.

"Wait a minute, let me try this again," the man mumbled, setting the search off for a second time. He waited, listened for the ping and then said, "Oh, I beg your pardon, Ma'am, it's actually registered to a _DCI _Stringer."

Kim frowned.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"DCI Kim Stringer, CID," the man told her.

Kim's head was in danger of exploding now. Her temper was threatening to follow.

"No, that's… that's still me, but I'm, not a detective chief inspector. I'm DI Kim Stringer. And that is _not_ my car."

The man shook his head helplessly.

"Then I don't know what to tell you," he said apologetically, "sorry, ma'am," he held up his hands, "please don't hit me."

Kim stared at the car keys in her hand, shaking her head a little. She didn't know what else to say. She could stand there arguing all day and it wouldn't make any difference. Something very peculiar was going on and she wasn't going to solve the mystery that easily. She turned slowly and walked away, her mind in a spin. Perhaps Alex was right, she wondered. Perhaps that car had found her for a reason, although what that reason _was_ she had no idea.

Not only did her head hurt but it had gone into a spin cycle too. Suddenly nothing made sense any more.

~xXx~

_How do you say goodbye to your life?_

Alex wasn't really sure. Was there even an answer to that? If there was, it certainly wasn't within her grasp.

She pulled her coat around her as she walked slowly down the street, trying to take in everything that she saw and heard. Her final taste of the twenty first century – for a few years at least. The things she saw as she walked along and committed to memory were the tiny things – people listening to their iPods, reading the latest piece of Evan/Beard fan fiction on their smartphones, advertisements for the latest movies and TV shows, the sound of modern music pumping from the cars that drove past.

It was strange how it was the little things her mind had come to focus on. She supposed it was a safer alternative to letting herself think about Molly and how her choice would affect her daughter. Then again, she started to wonder, perhaps the choice wasn't even hers to make. If she was back in the real world for a reason – to help Gene find peace back in the real world – then perhaps she was always meant to go home once her task was complete. Perhaps it didn't actually matter what she _planned_ to do – she would find herself back in the nineties before long anyway. At least this way she was able to tie up her own loose ends first.

The air was cold and biting as she turned back into the car park and walked slowly back to the front door She had made significant progress with her health and strength, she could see that. Of that, she was very proud. She knew she was in a fairly good position for her long journey the following day and for whatever came beyond it.

But inside there was a part of her that felt so scared. The fear was new. She didn't know what had brought it on or what it meant for her, she just knew that she had started to feel a sense of trepidation about the tasks that lay ahead for her. Nerves were natural, she supposed. They weren't going to stop her. She knew what she had to do and she was going to succeed.

"But that's not to say," she whispered as she took one last look at the world around her, "that I won't miss this." She turned around and walked slowly through the door. "_Goodbye, world,"_ she whispered.

~xXx~

"Rob, I'm sorry," Kim sighed as she walked him to his car, "I thought I'd be driving home with you, I didn't realise I was going to have Gene's cast offs to deal with." She sighed and shook her head. "I'll meet you back home in a bit. Just need to buy a few things for tomorrow."

"What are you going to do with it?" Robin asked, eyeing up the mysterious vehicle warily.

Kim put her hands on her hips and sighed.

"I guess I'd better keep it," she said, slightly reluctantly, "I mean, it's certainly nicer than my old car. Fewer miles on the clock. And if it's meant to have found me somehow…" she shook her head slightly, "but it still gives me the creeps, just like that bloody desk." She pulled the keys from her pocket and began to fiddle with them. "We should probably take it tomorrow. It wouldn't seem right not to. then when the whole Manchester thing is over I'll sell my old one."

Robin nodded. He had to agree that it seemed right to be using it for their journey the following day.

"Alright, Kim," her said, "I'll see you at home in a while."

As they parted and Kim climbed inside the familiar vehicle it gave her a strange feeling all over. It somehow brought the nineties a big step closer, for all of them.

"What am I going to get next?" she mumbled to herself, "if I find Malcolm's velvet trousers in the back of this thing I'm going to throw the hell up and send this car for a long swim in the Thames!"."

~xXx~

Alex heard Robin arrive home, with Kim following a little later, but she stayed in her room. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak to them or was being antisocial but she needed a little more time to herself. She had spent much of the afternoon meticulously tidying, packing and cleaning her room, as though preparing for a house move, It seemed strange to be packing. Just like money, she couldn't; exactly take her belongings with her, as the old saying pointed out, but she didn't just want to leave it for Robin and Kim to deal with when the time came. Besides, she knew that she may need a few things in Manchester – she couldn't guarantee how quickly they would arrive if the traffic wasn't on their side so she wasn't certain that they'd be able to do all they needed to on the same day. She was prepared that they might have to find somewhere to stay for a night, so she found herself packing an overnight bag.

She was surprised how much stuff she had amassed since moving in temporarily. Between clothes she'd borrowed from Kim, Christmas presents and a big stack of notebooks she had a lot of extra bits and pieces she wasn't expecting to find. She eventually felt as thought she had done as much packing and clearing as possible, leaving only what she knew she would need over night to be packed in the morning.

Her belongings were organised. Now she just had to let her mind follow suit.

She slowly left the confines of her room to find Kim and Robin in the kitchen where some magnificent last meal was in progress, along with an argument.

"Rob, I'm warning you, touch those tins again and I'll be placing those makeshift drumsticks somewhere you will never be able to play another tune again."

"But I was getting so much better at playing!" Robin protested.

"You sounded like a cat trapped in someone's shed, trying to get out!"

"It was supposed to be _We Are The Champions,"_ Robin informed her.

"Champion of crap drumming, maybe," Kim teased, throwing a tea towel at him and getting a slap over the arm with it for her troubles in return.

Alex stood and watched the scene, half smiling and trying not to shed a tear at the same time. That was the kind of thing she missed most about Gene; having someone to share banter with, having someone she felt close enough to that she knew he would never be offended, no matter what she said, reciving the same in reverse. Having someone to joke with, talk with, laugh with – just having someone to share her life with. She needed that back. Needed it desperately.

She suspected, as she watched them talking and laughing despite everything they were trying to deal with, that Robin might have been closer to reaching _that_ decision than he realised he was. Or perhaps than he was willing to admit. She just hoped that Robin had it in him to actually let himself be happy.

She decided she'd watched the tea-towel war for long enough when it looked as though the item in question may have been fashioned into some kind of noose and she waded in to stop the fight becoming deadly. _One last meal, _she thought to herself as she walked into the kitchen, _one last evening and one more sleep._

Suddenly Gene felt so much closer to her than ever.

_I'm coming home._


	74. Chapter 38, 1997: Test Drive

_**A/N: Stupid FFnet alerts aren't working again! And I positively cannot manage another tap-dance routine right now because if I tried I swear the baby would make a swift entrance into the world! I think I will have to try that poetry recital instead. Or, you know, maybe just point out that there was a chapter yesterday that the alerts didn't work for…**_

_**Sorry this chapter is short again, but the action is about to flip around. From tomorrow things start hotting up as the story heads towards its climax. Thank you so much for continuing to read and I hope you'll stick with it through to the end!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 38: 1997**

The extremely loud car horn that just wouldn't shut up sent Simon scrambling to the window in annoyance and frustration, tripping over several objects as he went. He finally reached the window and looked out to find the culprit was a rather smug Gene in his new set of wheels. Not that Simon would deny Gene what was clearly one of his main pleasures in life – the love of a good car – but it was early and there was a half-finished bowl of cornflakes calling his name.

"I take it you found one you wanted then?" he called down from the window.

Gene leaned out the side of the car, sporting a brand new pair of shades which were completely inappropriate for the grim January weather, especially since a broken water main had left a sheet of ice across the road. Simon hoped he was going for irony with the gesture.

"Get your bony backside down here now and help me give this fine young lady a test run," Gene told him.

Simon closed his eyes and sighed.

"What are you talking like that for?" he demanded.

"You wouldn't understand, Shoebury. Cars are just vehicles to a man of your level of nerdery."

"Then what are they to you?"

"An extension of me glistening personality."

Simon folded his arms grumpily.

"Extension of your penis, more like," he mumbled and shut the window but a long, loud blast from the horn let him know that Gene had no intension of giving up on the idea of persuading Simon out for a test-run. With a groan and a string of expletives Simon realised that his cornflakes were destined never to make it down his throat and he reluctantly grabbed his jacket and keys for a Gene-related excursion.

~x~

Gene pushed the door open for Simon and watched with amusement the pissed off expression on his friend's face as he climbed in.

"You could be happy for me, Simon," he said, "I've just found me perfect match."

"I'd be happier if my stomach wasn't rumbling," Simon pouted, "have you any idea how disgusting that bowl of cornflakes is going to be by the end of the day? Sitting there, on my kitchen table, going mushier by the moment?"

"Just as well Latte Land do breakfasts now," said Gene.

"Forgot my wallet," Simon mumbled.

"On me," said Gene.

Simon froze. He stared at Gene, his mouth gaping open in shock and disbelief.

"Excuse me?" he spluttered, "I'm not sure I heard that right."

"I'll buy you breakfast," Gene offered.

Simon hesitated.

"I didn't know cars came with personality transplants," he said.

"One more piece of lip and you'll be eating yer arm instead," Gene warned.

Simon nodded slowly.

"That's more like it," he said.

Gene indicated the car around them.

"What do you think, Shoebury?"

Simon took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was a _nice_ car, very flashy, but his knowledge of the motor industry wasn't exactly in-depth and if Gene was expecting a conversation about the fine points of his new acquisition he was going to be highly disappointed.

"It's… it's nice," said Simon, "very shiny," he paused, "what is it?" he paused, "pretend I care. Pretend I have any clue about cars."

"Aston Martin, DB-seven," said Gene, "

Simon wished that he knew _anything_ about cars so that he could make an intelligent comment. As it was, all he could think of was,

"Nice one."

"Maybe bloody time warps finally did me a favour," said Gene. He started the engine and told Simon, "I'll drive you to work."

"What, all twenty feet to work?" Simon sighed, pointing to the station.

"We'll take the scenic route," Gene told him and before Simon had a chance to object or to fasten his seat belt he found his neck pulled back against the seat as Gene sped straight past the station and off on some sort of Gene-style test-run.

~xXx~

"Bloody wimp," Gene folded his arms and watched as Simon finally stopped praying and begging for mercy.

"What kind of driving was _that?"_ he cried.

"Bloody good driving," Gene told him, "you could learn a thing or two."

"Like how to break someone's neck by driving too fast?" Simon demanded. He rubbed his shoulders and tried to stop his head from spinning. "What's _wrong_ with you? Even for _you_ that was… out of control."

"You only live once," Gene told him.

"Yeah, well, that's not true for a start," Simon managed to snap his neck back into place, "bloody hell, Gene, next time you want to take someone for a test run how about one of those dummies with the safety signs painted on their heads?"

Gene rolled his eyes.

"Some people just don't appreciate the need for speed," he said.

"You're wrong there," said Simon, "I appreciate it. I appreciate the need for speed when I need to think up an excuse in a hurry not to get in a car with you!"

Gene ignored him and opened the door of the car.

"You've got five minutes to turn yourself into some sort of man while I buy breakfast," he said and disappeared into Latte Land.

Simon breathed a sigh of relief as Gene left the car. _Bloody hell_, even for Gene that driving was insane, especially when they weren't even in pursuit of some suspect. Simon wondered idly if Gene behaved that way every time he got a new car. Either way, next time Gene offered to take him for a test drive he'd know to feign a heart attack and get out of it in any way possible.

~xXx~

It hadn't been the intention of the driving escapade but it was a bonus, that was for sure.

While Simon was sitting, shell-shocked, at his desk and staring blindly ahead of himself, replaying every near-miss they'd had along the way, Gene was free to liberate the box from beneath his desk and take it out to his brand new car.

"Didn't quite anticipate me journey taking such a classy turn," he mumbled to himself as he placed the box in the back of his new set of wheels and laid his coat over it to hide its contents, "but at least I'll be travelling in style."

He slammed the door to the car and walked briskly back to the station. There were a few flakes of snow in the air and the day was decidedly icy. The toilet system was clogged because the pipes had frozen, causing Bammo to flip his lid about an alleged 'poo monster' crawling out of one of the lavatories and some idiot with a camcorder was lurking around the car park, taking footage of people sliding and falling on their backsides on the ice to send to _You've Been Framed_ for a few extra quid.

"Bloody winter," Gene mumbled as he walked back into the station, trying to unfreeze his shirt sleeves along the way. He worked through all he had left to do in his mind as he returned to his office. He was still more or less living out of boxes and cases at Simon's so it wouldn't be difficult to move those into the car first thing in the morning, especially since Simon had the day off and would probably be sleeping late. All he had to do then was to drop by Fletcher's office, hand in his resignation and then head up North for one last trip home before last orders.

Now that it was here, it felt right. Sad, scary in some ways – but right.

Time to hang up his boots.


	75. Chapter 39, 2012: Northbound Journey

_**A/N: Phew – the alerts are working again so the poetry recital is off! Thank goodness for that! On a serious note, I'm posting two chapters this morning. I had always planned on posting these together when I reached this part of the story as the focus shifts. Things are getting serious now!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 39: 2012**

_# …I want to know how does it feel_

_Behind those eyes of blue_

_You've made your mistakes_

_And now your heart aches_

_Behind those eyes of blue…#_

Alex awoke with a start as her alarm went off just after seven that morning. She felt her heart racing and there was a definite layer of sweat on her forehead. She took several deep breaths, trying to block out the nightmares of the night before but they weren't going anywhere. They'd started with the usual – the same dream she'd been having for weeks; heading to Manchester, trying to help find Gene peace but had soon turned into something far sadder, darker, _heart-breaking._

_# …People may say you've had your chance_

_And let it slip away_

_But hard as they try_

_There's a dream that won't die_

_Behind those eyes of blue… #_

The words of the song playing on the radio struck a chord with Alex as she thought about the latter part of the dream; the desolate look on Gene's face, thee emptiness in his heart as he gave up and began to make his way for last orders. _Oh god,_ was she too late already? She hoped and prayed that she wasn't. After all she'd gone through to build up her strength and make this journey she wasn't going to give up on Gene, even if he'd given up on her.

_# …Maybe once in a while_

_There's a trace of a smile_

_Behind those eyes of blue_

_But it's painfully clear_

_There's a river of tears_

_Behind those eyes of blue… #_

She couldn't stand to listen to those words and longer and switched off the radio. She slipped her legs from the bed and sat there, looking all around her for one last time, taking in all the details of the room she'd spent the last month calling her own. It felt extremely strange and surreal to think that this was it – the moment she had been building up to since the moment she first opened her eyes. She had waited for it for so long. Now it had arrived she suddenly found it so much more daunting than she realised that she would.

What was she supposed to do when she got there? She had some ideas, of course. She had some plans. But what if they weren't enough? What if she exhausted her list of plans and still Gene couldn't find peace? What if she did all that she could to help him to rest in the real world but didn't find her own way home? _Shit,_ this was scary. This was terrifying. The thought if failing scared her beyond anything she could express.

With a click, music began to play again, making Alex jump out of her skin. She might not have wanted to listen to any more of the song but apparently the song had other ideas.

_# …You know life is too short_

_For compromising_

_Take a hold of your dream_

_And realize it… #_

Those words made her heart skip a beat. She closed her eyes for a second as one tear began to slip from the corner of each. It was true, it was all bloody true, life was too short – oh, she'd learned that the hard way. This wasn't the time for losing confidence. She had to believe that the plan would work, because she had no other choice but to get home. Gene was counting on her and she wasn't going to let him down.

_# …You know there's nothing left_

_To stand in your way_

_Except yourself and I know_

_Though your hearts full of pain_

_That a hope still remains_

_Behind those eyes of blue… #_

That did it. The floodgates were open now. No stopping the tears. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to cry. That was something she hadn't truly done since she awoke. She finally let herself cry for Gene – for how much she missed him, for how desperate she was to find her way back, for how much her heart ached at thinking he had given up on her. The tears were cleansing and as they flowed away so did many of her fears.

Inside she knew that she couldn't fail. Gene was waiting for her, and she would make it back in time because she _had_ to. They were a pair. They functioned much better together than apart. And before she knew it, she would be home.

She still believed that deep in her heart.

~xXx~

They were both awake, just holding each other in the darkness, wishing that they didn't have to acknowledge what day it was. With all that had happened in the past few days the fact that _'M-Day'_ had finally arrived felt even more surreal. Robin's mind returned frequently to his horrifying discovery but he had made a decision to focus on Alex and her return home for the next day or so. There would be time after that to work through the dark feelings that swelled inside of him every so often.

"How are you feeling?" Kim's voice was quiet and weak; scared, almost. It wasn't something Robin was used to hearing.

"Sick," Robin whispered back.

"Me too," Kim admitted quietly.

"I just can't believe today is here," Robin said quietly.

There was a moment of silence. A long pause, before Kim's arms tightened around him.

"I wish it wasn't," she whispered.

Robin hesitated.

"Me too," he whispered.

~xXx~

No one was especially interested in breakfast despite the fact that they knew it was going to be a long journey and they could do with all the strength they could gather. Their nerves and anticipation killed any appetite they might have had and a plate of croissants found themselves largely ignored, despite the promise of homemade jam for anyone who could stomach eating breakfast. When it became clear that no one was going to tuck in, attention turned to the journey instead.

"I have maps and directions," Alex spread out a pile of papers, "I know that you'll use the satnav but I've got so many detours and possible branches to the journey that I wanted to have a full array in case we needed them."

"We'll go in the Fiat," said Kim, "Rob can move his satnav over. It feels right."

Alex nodded, a sad smile on her face.

"Yes, it does," she said quietly.

"Kim and I can take turns driving," said Robin, "it's not like we're driving all night but we'll split it between us. Neither of us got much sleep so it seems the best way."

"We've got a few things to load into the car," Kim said, "a bag for overnight. A box of food and stuff. Not that I don't adore lovely service station cuisine, but… sure you understand."

"I'll just bring out my bag," Alex told them, getting slowly to her feet.

Robin and Kim watched her head into her bedroom and then exchanged a sad look between them.

"We're losing a friend today," Robin said quietly.

Kim nodded slowly, her hand resting on his arm.

"We'll see her again, one day," she said quietly.

Robin nodded slowly. He knew she was right – and in a way that scared him the most.

~xXx~

As she pulled her bag over her shoulder, Alex took one last look around her room. She could feel a tear starting to form in her eye which she wiped away crossly.

"Oh _stop_ it," she admonished herself, "I don't have time for hormones today."

She began to head back out of the door but at the last moment she stopped and turned back round. There was the list of dates on the board. Her schedule. She stepped towards it, picked up the pen, took off the lid and crossed through the final day. Then she laid the pen down with a deep breath and a sigh, and turned to leave.

~xXx~

Kim stood crossly by the door, taping her foot and checking her watch. She felt like a school teacher trying to get all her pupils onto the coach for a school trip on time.

"Come _on,"_ she called in frustration as she finally heard the toilet flush and a slightly ashamed Robin slunk down the hall.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

With a sigh, Alex passed him, marching in the opposite direction.

"Great, now_ I've_ got to go again," she mumbled.

Kim threw her hands in the air in frustration.

"How are we ever going to get there if the two of you are going to be glued to the bog?" she cried.

"Sorry," Robin mumbled.

"One heavily pregnant woman and one-"

"_Don't_ call me a pregnant man," Robin warned.

"One… slightly… toilet… orientated… man," Kim corrected, "we're going to stop at _every – last – service – station_," she banged her head against the side of the door post with each word, "aren't we?"

"I'm sorry," Robin pouted, "it was _Alex_ who started talking about fountains and then I had to go."

"You're not five, Rob, you can hold it!"

Alex returned to the sound of the toilet flushing.

"Sorry," she said, "I'm ready now."

There was a pause.

"Well _I'm_ not," Kim threw down her keys in annoyance, "now you've both made me want to go. Thanks a bloody bunch. Damn thing's catching."

She stomped her way down the hall to the bathroom, leaving Alex and Robin awaiting her annoyed return a few moments later, when finally everyone seemed ready. Suddenly the enormity of the situation hit them all as they stood in the hallway and looked at one another. It was finally there, the moment they'd all, in their own ways, been working towards for such a long time.

"This is it," Alex said, taking a deep breath.

Kim looked at her seriously.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Alex nodded slowly.

"I've been ready for the last two months," she said.

Kim nodded back.

"Then let's get on the road," she said quietly.

The three anxious, hopeful figures stepped out of the door and as Robin locked it behind them it felt like locking up the last couple of months. Locking up Alex's time in 2011 and 2012. Now she needed to find her way home in whatever manner she could. With friends by her side, she could feel the nineties just around the corner.

~xXx~

"I _knew_ it," Kim sighed as she queued at the café in the service station, "I _knew_ this was going to happen."

"Sorry," Robin mumbled. Kim's prediction had been accurate. By the time the first service station had come into view Alex was shuffling furiously in her seat and her graphic descriptions of waterfalls set Robin off.

"Couldn't even get past the first bloody _one,"_ Kim cried.

"I'll put my iPod on next time Alex starts shuffling so I don't catch any of her water comparisons," Robin promised.

"I'm not sure I should be buying the pair of you coffees either," Kim commented as three steaming mugs were placed upon her tray, "that's not going to help."

"It's so cold," Robin protested, "we need something to defrost our fingers."

"Well, we'll drink these quickly and get back on the road as soon as we can," said Kim, "I want to make sure we get to Manchester before two thousand and thirteen."

She carried the tray over to a table where Alex was sitting, flicking through a magazine. It felt strange to see her doing something so normal, just nonchalantly reading away, knowing the basis of their whole journey was as far removed from the norm as possible. Alex looked up and closed her magazine as the tray appeared. She smiled a little nervously.

"Just reading the reviews for Evan's new autobiography," she said with a slightly ashamed look on her face.

Kim sank into a chair and distributed the coffees. As she reached for a sachet of sugar she asked reluctantly,

"What's the verdict?"

"The critics don't like it as much as his first one, apparently," Alex told her, "I didn't even know he'd _written_ a first one."

"I think this one is his third actually," said Robin as he lifted his cup and started warming his hands on it, "Simon and I went to the launch party for _Evan White: Life Is Hard When All People See Is Your Beard."_

Kim spluttered and sent a mouthful of coffee across the table in disgust. She choked a few times, tried to mop up the worst of the mess and turned to Robin accusingly.

"Thanks for sharing that, Rob!" she cried, "you couldn't have waited until a more appropriate time? Like after I've passed on?"

"Don't joke about that," Robin said quietly.

Kim looked down. That possibly wasn't the most sensitive comment under the circumstances.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

Alex took a deep breath as she realised just how awkward the atmosphere really was. Not that she had expected anything different. She knew that this was a strange and difficult journey for all of them and she wasn't sure how she would feel if things were the other way around with her helping Robin or Kim to try to pass over.

"I wish you both knew how grateful I am to you," she said quietly.

Kim and Robin looked at her, a little surprised by her comment.

"We do," Robin assured her, "honestly."

"Not many people can ever understand," Kim began, "so us freaky dimension-hopping weirdos have to stick together."

Alex gave them a slightly sad smile.

"Very true, she said quietly.

Kim lifted her cup and took a proper sip of her coffee which wasn't spoilt by the thought of Evan's previous literary ventures. She pulled a face and sat her cup back down, staring at it suspiciously.

"I think the coffee's off," she said, her face contorting in disgust.

Robin glanced at her.

"Mine's alright.

"Mine too," Alex told her.

Kim stared at the cup slightly accusingly as though it had tasted that bad on purpose. She took another sip as though expecting it to get better but it still tasted strange.

"There's something not right with this," she said.

"Don't drink it then," said Robin.

"I was looking forward to that," Kim said disappointedly.

Before she could rant about service station coffee any further, a deafening siren began with a couple of flashing lights and all three got to their feet in a slight panic.

"What's that?" cried Robin.

They watched as other customers began to filter out of the building.

"Must be a fire drill," said Alex.

Kim groaned.

"Oh _god,"_ she sighed, that's all we need. So much for the break."

"You wanted to get moving again quickly," Robin pointed out to her as they started to walk towards the fire exit, losing themselves amid the throng of people, "perhaps the alarm's done you a favour."

"Could have done with a slightly more relaxing way of getting us back on the road," Kim commented.

They found themselves outside, shivering and shuddering in the cold January air. Alex shuffled on the spot for a few moments, wondering what to do next. She gave a sigh eventually and said,

"Well, no one seems to be waving us back in or telling us how long this is going to take so I think we should get moving. We have a long way to go."

"And many toilet stops to make," Robin mumbled.

"Well at least the fire alarm has stopped you both from topping up your bladders," Kim commented tactfully.

Alex glanced at an object that she's noticed in Kim's hands.

"If you were the one whose coffee was 'off' then why have you brought yours out with you?" she demanded.

Kim glanced down. She hadn't even realised.

"Shit," she mumbled. She glanced all around her and located a large plant pot with an oversized yucca plant inside it. Surreptitiously she slipped the cup behind the plant, dusted off her hands and gave the others a smug smile.

"There," she said, "sorted."

Alex rolled her eyes but couldn't really argue with her logic.

"I hope yucca plants like coffee," she said.

Robin gave a nod towards the car park.

"Come on," he said, "let's get going before it orders a hot chocolate or something."

The three of them set off again, leaving a crowd of cold and angry customers behind, awaiting the word to go back inside. Back on the road, back on the journey, they knew that all the distractions along the way weren't going to take their minds away from the goal at the end of their long drive. Many miles were ahead of them and beyond that they would still face a dark and difficult time. There was no turning back now. Manchester was calling more loudly with each moment that passed.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: The coffee in the yucca plant, I must confess is a true story – many years ago I was on a school trip as a teaching assistant and we'd stopped at a service station for refreshments and toilet breaks. My coffee tasted off, even though no one else's did, and then the fire alarm went off. I accidentally took the drink out with me and the only place I could find to leave it was in a yucca plant! I had totally forgotten about it until I was writing this and they got to the service station. I do hope the plant enjoyed its free drink!**_


	76. Chapter 39, 1997: Oh Baby

_**A/N: The second of today's two chapters**_

**Chapter 39: 1997**

Simon hadn't even brushed the sleep from his eyes as he shuffled out of his bedroom and found Gene straightening his tie.

"Alright, lazy arse," Gene greeted him.

"It's my day off," Simon mumbled, "I'm allowed to be."

Gene knew that. He'd been counting on it, in fact. He had already been up for a couple of hours, enough time to move whatever he needed to of his belongings from behind Simon's couch into his brand new car, plan his route in the _AA Book of the Road_, write his resignation letter and buy and consume three large lattes.

"Gene, aren't you going to be late?" Simon's words interrupted his mental checklist.

Gene nodded.

"Sure the walls won't be falling down if I'm a _few_ minutes late," he said. He shuffled a little awkwardly in the spot, trying to work out some wise, parting words but Simon had another question.

"What's the date?"

Gene shrugged.

"Don't know. Seventh?"

"_Shit!"_

A look of horror befell Simon as he ran his hands through his overgrown hair and stared at the Christmas tree.

"What?" Gene looked at it nervously. After the strange _appearing decoration_ nonsense a few weeks before he'd always felt a little suspicious of it.

"Tree should have been down by now!" Simon panicked.

"It's a _tree_, Simon, it's not going to slit yer throat for putting it to bed late."

"It's bad luck to leave your tree up after twelfth night!" Simon cried, hopping around like some kind of superstitious idiot. It made Gene want to reach for his collar and let the filing cabinet give him a strict talking to but in the interests of keeping things friendly for the last time he would ever see Simon he decided to ignore the jumping and panicking.

"Simon, you have the luck of a man who makes a living by walking under ladders while selling upside down horseshoes," he sighed, "a couple of days late putting yer tree away isn't going to make a lot of difference."

"I've got to get the damn thing down," Simon mumbled, already walking towards it and trying to work out where to begin, "shit, I haven't even had breakfast." He watched as Gene stepped towards the door. "Well aren't you going to help me then?"

"Some of us have got to work, Shoebury," Gene said, a slight note of something Simon couldn't' identify tucked away in his voice, "but you've got a whole day to strip the bloody thing bare. At least you won't be sitting around on yer backside waiting for the rot to set in."

"Charming!" cried Simon, "And I don't think it's very fair I have to do the whole thing by myself. _You_ got the damn tree, _you_ wanted it, _you_ decorated it – you should be the one to take it down."

"I didn't decorate it," Gene pointed out, "it did that itself."

"Then it should take _itself_ down," Simon said crossly.

"_Look,"_ Gene started to sound angry now, "it's a bloody tree. Yer life's not going to be over if you leave it up a few more days. And you're not going to die of hard labour if you sit and take all the bloody balls off it now. Make yer decision and get on with it. I've got to go." he watched as Simon began pulling decorations crossly from the lower limbs of the tree, muttering crossly to himself as he went about it. _Quite fitting,_ Gene thought to himself. The last thing he'd see of Simon would be something completely ridiculous. Story of their friendship. He regarded Simon with a slight sadness in his expression. This was it. "Goodbye, Shoebury," he said quietly. He paused, waiting for Simon to respond but he was already knee-deep in tinsel. "Take care, Simon."

This time Simon glanced up.

"I promise I won't stab myself in the eye with a branch," he said.

That was the last thing said before Gene bowed his head slightly and stepped out of the flat for the last time. It was the only goodbye he was planning to make and the recipient had no idea about it. As he closed the door he stood outside and took a deep breath. He felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't identify. It wasn't a little pang of guilt, was it? He shook his head and beat that thought away.

The journey was about to begin. The road ahead was long, but at least there would be a cold pint waiting at the end for him.

~xXx~

It was the moment Gene never thought was going to happen. He had never considered it before, not for a minute. He thought about all those times when others – colleagues, superiors, members of the public – told him he was behind the times and would never last another year. All those times he'd been pushed towards promotion to a pen-pushing position or that early retirement had been recommended to him. And yet he'd always fought back, changing _just_ enough to stay in his post while keeping the edge that had proven so bloody brilliant for his work. Of course Alex had played a big part in that. She'd helped him to adjust enough to the changing times to stay on his throne. She knew how important his work was to him and she wanted him to continue for as long as _he_ wanted to.

But he didn't want to do that anymore. Not without her there by his side.

He had felt extremely strange writing his letter of resignation. It was just something he had never thought about before. He wasn't even sure what to write. It almost burnt his fingers as he held the envelope and walked briskly to Fletcher's office, where he hesitated outside for just a moment. He hung his head slightly and stared at the hand-written envelope. Letting out a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and hoped that Alex would understand. It took him several moments to pull together the strength to knock on the door. He waited but there was no reply, so he slowly opened the door and peered inside but there was no sign of Fletcher.

"Bollocks," he mumbled. He gave a frustrated sigh, turned around and began to walk back in the other direction, passing Terry in the corridor as he went.

"Seen anything of the Super this morning?" he asked.

Terry shook his head.

"No Guv, sorry," he said with a slight shrug.

"Bollocks," Gene sighed again. He stopped for a moment and tried to work out what to do. He hadn't wanted to do this the cowardly way but he really needed to get moving. Reluctantly he returned to Fletcher's office and walked cautiously inside. His footsteps echoed as he walked towards the Super's desk. There were papers to one side but the centre of it was clear. Good - no excuse for him no to see it when he returned. He placed the envelope nice and clearly in the middle of the empty wooden space and took a step back. That was it. _No turning back now_. Then he turned and walked quickly away before he could change his mind.

~xXx~

If there was one thing Simon hated it was the aftermath of the festive season. He had never been much of a scrooge when he was still in the land of the living – it was only being separated from Robin and stuck in Gene's world that had caused him to boycott a lot of the festive season – but he had always hated the post-christmas aftermath.

The clearing up, the bags of torn wrapping paper, the endless washing up, trails of empty sweet wrappers that he'd still be finding for weeks, the rotten indigestion and extra holiday pounds, the obligatory thank-yous for the presents that would find their way to the charity shop by new year and the knowledge that all you had to look forward to now were weeks of winter with nothing special to break them up. But what he hated most was the post-Christmas clean-up; the putting away of the decorations, the dismantling of the tree. It was dull, it was depressing and it made him want to throw a tantrum at the thought of packing away all those dumb little baubles without breaking them and winding up the lights without leaving them in a huge knot for the following year.

Needless to say, Simon was not in the best of moods by the time he was halfway through dismantling the bare remains of the tree. First he'd had nothing to pack the decorations in and dumped them in a black bin bag, which he was sure Gene was going to have something to say about. Then he'd tried to remove the top section of the tree and almost removed half the skin from his right hand in the process. _Then_ when had finally dismantled two of the tree's three sections the dust that had started to settle gave him a big allergy attack and he had ended up sneezing right into a pile of tinsel which just sent myriad glittery pieces into the air, most of which settled upon his head.

"Gene Hunt, next time you can dismantle your own bloody tree," he mumbled as he lifted the final section and started to pull the stand apart piece by piece.

It wasn't until he was lying the pieces of the stand on top of the folded limbs that the small piece of paper on the floor caught his eye. He didn't really pay much attention to it at first, assuming it had fallen off of a present or perhaps from one of the packets of decorations but as he moved a little closer to clear up some of the debris on the floor from the dismantled tree he realised that the image on the paper was very strange indeed. He lifted it to look at it more closely and stared at it for a good few seconds before he could even begin to work out what he was looking at. It wasn't something he was used to seeing, for a start. Bur finally he could just about make out, amid the shades of black and white, the profile of a baby's head and what seemed to be an arm as well.

"What the _hell -?"_ he cried, his voice sounding somewhat higher than normal in confusion. Where exactly had that come from? It wasn't as though he was storing pregnant women in the airing cupboard.

It wasn't for some time that he saw he printed information along the top of the scan and all at once he froze; unable to move, unable to think, unable to process what he was seeing.

_DRAKE: Alexandra: 14 Dec 2011. Anomaly Scan. Fenchurch General._

The more he stared the less sense it made, but he couldn't argue with the words in front of him. His brain raced and his heart thumped as he tried to work out what was happening. Eventually he had no choice but to accept that the only possible explanation was that something else had somehow skipped time. It might have been many times smaller than Gene's car but in itself it was something far, _far_ bigger.

"_The baby's still there,"_ he whispered, barely even realising he was speaking aloud, "Alex is still pregnant, and she's in…" he swallowed, "two thousand and eleven." His hand started to shake as he clutched the picture. His brain was scrambled. He couldn't think straight, he didn't know what this meant or how it was possible but there was one thing he knew for certain - there was someone else who needed to see the scan.

"_Gene!"_

~x~

Simon couldn't remember the last time he'd run so fast as he pelted down the road towards the station. Actually, that wasn't true – the last time he'd run that fast was when one of the violent toasters started firing off waffles at random but he wasn't sure that counted. He could hardly breathe by the time he ran through the doors and stormed up the stairs, two at a time. He charged through CID, bringing disapproving looks from people who feared they were about to be sent sprawling sideways in his haste and mumbled apologies to them as he went.

He threw open the door of Gene's office, expecting to see him behind his desk, but there was no sign of him.

"_Shit,"_ he cursed breathlessly. He leaned against the wall, panting for a few moments until he caught sight of Terry walking across the office. _"Terry," _he took a few paces towards him, "have you seen DCI Hunt?"

"Went to see the Super," Terry told him.

Simon took a deep breath.

"Right," he said, taking up the chase again. Once more his feet pounded along, down one corridor, then another until he reached Fletcher's office door and knocked loudly. He tried to wait patiently to be called in but only let a second pass by before he mumbled, "_oh, bollocks to it_," and threw the door open. Once again an empty room greeted him. Where the hell was Gene? Where was Fletcher, for that matter? If Gene was meeting with him then where were they now?

He wasn't even sure why he walked towards the desk. It wasn't as though he expected Gene and Fletcher to jump out from behind it and yell _"surprise!" _Whatever prompted him to do it, his eyes were immediately drawn to an envelope sitting in the middle of the desk with Gene's handwriting on the front, and somehow – as soon as he laid eyes on it – Simon knew.

He just _knew._

"Oh, _no,_ Gene," he mumbled, snatching up the envelope and ripping it open. He didn't even think about the implications of opening someone else's letter or that if Fletcher walked in at that moment Simon would most likely be joining the dole queue very soon. He didn't care. It didn't matter The only thing that mattered was trying to prove his instincts wrong but as his eyes scanned the sheet of paper inside the envelope his hope faded fast.

The moment he saw the words; _"Regretfully I must inform you that –"_ he knew that his worst fears had been confirmed. This was it – Gene had made the decision that Simon had tried with all his might to talk him out of, and when Gene set his mind to something there really was no changing it.

Simon stumbled a little against the desk. He drew in a very deep breath and let it out slowly as he tried to work through his thoughts. He had to get to Gene before he did something stupid. The small black and white picture in his pocket was proof as to why Gene had to stay right where he was and to keep strong. He knew Gene had talked about finally going to the pub, and he knew any time someone reached the end of their time in Gene's world the pub would appear somewhere nearby. But Gene had also talked about going home, to Manchester. Did things work differently for Gene? When it was _his_ time to go did he have to head back to the place he called home? While there was no way to know for certain Gene's recent talk of the north played on his mind and he knew that, if he was _anywhere_, it would be there.

"_Shit,"_ he hissed as his feet began to pound down the corridor once again. He couldn't even think let alone breathe as he fled from the station and back towards his flat. He just had to get moving. He didn't know how the hell to get to Manchester – hell, he couldn't even work out which way was north, but he had to find a way. Gene needed to see that picture for himself. It _had_ to mean something. If the baby had somehow made it over with Alex then just maybe they could both make it back. This wasn't the time for Gene to be getting a round in.

He ran to his car and rummaged for his keys just as an annoyingly cheerful postmen walked up to him with a bundle of letters and packages.

"Morning," he said cheerfully.

Simon gave him an annoyed glance.

"What?" he demanded, still trying to get hold of the keys.

"You're the gentleman from up there, right?" the postie asked.

"Yes, why? - _Aha!"_ Simon finally fund his keys and slid them into the lock.

"Package for you," the postman said, "needs signing for."

"I don't have time," Simon said quickly.

"I just need a quick siggy on the line," the postman said with an annoyingly chirpy smile.

"Just stick it through the door," Simon mumbled as he finally managed to get the car open.

"But I need you to sign –"

"_Look,"_ Simon's temper had reached the far end of its limits, "I'll sign your _face_ in a minute. Give me the damn post and let me go!"

The postman gulped.

"You've been picking up habits from that grumpy geezer who lives with you," he mumbled, fishing out a pile of letters and reluctantly handing them to Simon.

Simon threw them onto the front passenger seat before jumping in and slamming the door

"Get out of the way before your feet end up flatter than one of your stinking envelopes!" Simon declared as he started the car.

The rather anxious postman took a few steps back and watched as Simon flew out of his parking space and drove away at speed.

He didn't know where he was going. He didn't know how to find his way to Manchester, let alone the Railway Arms. All he knew was that he had to try. He had to get to Gene before Nelson called time because there was a little part of him stuck in the twenty first century with Alex, and Gene needed to know about it.

If desks, cars and turkeys could jump the line, Simon was as sure as he could be that Alex would find a way to be next and he wasn't going to let Gene bow out on a world where he had a woman and child coming home to him.


	77. Chapter 40, 1997: Green Day

_**A/N: Content warning for extreme coverage of Evan's beard in an increasingly meta way. You can blame Morgana for creating the term 'beardfic' in her review! She should have known it would only lead to trouble… **_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 40: 2012**

Robin had lost track of how long he had been driving for. He'd more or less tuned out everything. It seemed the only way to cope with the situation. The closer they came to their first destination the more it hit him that the implications for the day were actually extremely dark. He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Alex sitting quietly in the back seat, staring out of the window as though she was taking in every inch of the journey. Her face was neutral, carefully so. She'd been working on keeping it that way. She didn't want Robin and Kim to see how anxious she was herself.

The billboards for Evan's new autobiography that they passed every so often were making them all nervous. They certainly didn't help an already tense situation, although Robin did have to admit to laughing for a moment at the defaced one they passed on which some wise guy had drawn in a fresh beard for Evan.

It hadn't been the most light-hearted of journeys. Everyone had been fairly quiet, aside from expressing the need for toilet stops at various points. They'd had the radio on for some time but the damn thing decided to keep playing music about missing people, going away and making long journeys so none of them particularly had the stomach for that after a while.

"Robin, can you stop the car please?"

Kim's voice was quiet and came out of the blue. He glanced at her sideways.

"Pardon?"

"Can you stop?" she repeated a little more urgently, "_Stop the car –"_

The increasingly desperate look on Kim's face brought Robin to a standstill at the side of the road.

"Kim, what's the matter?" he asked anxiously.

Kim took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"I need some air," she said quietly.

"Are you OK?" Alex looked over worriedly from the backseat.

Kim nodded slowly, her skin pale.

"I don't travel well over long distances," she said quietly, "I just need a few minutes. I'll be fine."

She opened the door, unfastened her seatbelt and stepped outside.

"I'll come with you –" Robin began but she waved him back.

"I'm fine, Rob, stay there," she said quietly, her voice a little strained.

Robin hesitated. He bit his lip and tried to work out whether to follow her or not. He wanted to – he wanted to make sure she was really alright, but he didn't want to annoy her any further, especially since he valued his limbs too much to lose one to an angry Kim. He decided eventually to leave her be for a few moments until she got some colour back in her cheeks and just watched her standing quietly near the side of the road, her back to the car.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise Kim got car sick," Alex piped up, feeling a little guilty.

Robin looked back to her.

"She doesn't usually," he said quietly, "but then again the farthest we usually drive is the station. We've never been on a long drive like this before." He checked his watch. They'd already been on the road for such a long time. He kept one eye on Kim, hoping that she would be feeling better and back in the car soon. He felt a little lost without her there. There was a bit of an atmosphere in the car as silence descended which Robin felt a need to fill. He cleared his throat a little nervously and asked,

"So is Evan planning a literary career after his release?"

Alex sighed and leaned back again.

"I don't know, Robin," she said, "I had more important matters to address with him when I visited."

Robin looked down.

"Of course, he said quietly, "sorry."

"His previous careers are just about over," Alex said, "so perhaps."

"It's only going to encourage the beardfic," Robin said miserably.

"The what?"

"It's all over the internet," Robin said in disgust, "when the alerts on FFnet broke down for a few days and people weren't getting alerts for their favourite beard stories there was a riot. They called the dogs out and everything." He rubbed his forehead. "The most popular pairings are Evan/Beard, Evan/Geoff and Evan/Beard Trimmers. Honestly, you'll do well to hide out in the nineties. Those Beardshippers are freaky people."

Alex closed her eyes in horror.

"_Please_ stop," she begged, "otherwise I'll be needing some 'air' too." She shuddered, "or brain bleach."

The passenger door open and Kim climbed quietly back inside.

"Are you alright?" Robin asked her gently.

Kim looked down, feeling embarrassed and awkward.

"I'm fine, I just needed a moment," she said quietly.

"We'll try to pick up some travel sickness tablets on the way," Robin offered.

"Let's just concentrate on getting there, I'm fine," Kim said quietly, desperate to take the attention away from her embarrassing moment, "please? Let's get moving."

Robin nodded slowly, concerned that she still seemed rather pale. He started the car and turned his attention back to the satnav.

"We shouldn't be too far from the first port of call now," he said quietly, hoping that would be of some comfort. He glanced back at Alex before he pulled away. "Alex? Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"It's important," she said quietly.

Robin nodded.

"Then let's get moving," he said.

~xXx~

"Are you sure this is it?" Robin asked as they stared out of the car.

Alex nodded. It certainly didn't look like the same place she'd travelled to begin a nightmare of epic proportions all those years ago, nor like it did in the flashbacks that filtered through to her dreams when she was comatose, but she had expected that. She'd done her research and knew what she was going to find. It still seemed strange, but she was prepared.

"This is it, she said quietly. She unfastened her seatbelt and reached to open the door of the car but stopped as she watched Robin and Kim doing the same. "Actually, could I…" she hesitated. She didn't want to sound rude but this was important, "could I have a few minutes out there alone?"

Kim and Robin exchanged a glance.

"Are you sure you're up to that?" Kim asked anxiously.

Alex nodded.

"I need it," she said quietly.

Kim nodded slowly.

"Be careful, ma'am," she said.

Alex's smile was weak and wobbly as she nodded.

"I will," she promised.

She stepped slightly awkwardly out of the car with one hand protectively over her belly. Her shoes sank slightly into muddy grass at the edge of the road and she closed the car door behind her. She took a moment to look around her. The day was as grim and grey as the first time she'd been there but this time there was little reminder of the shallow grave that held Gene's remains for so many years.

A giant billboard angled in two directions, designed to be seen from the road, bore a designer's interpretation of a large development about to begin. The illustration showed a beautiful summer's day with sunlight glinting from the many windows the construction was going to hold. The giant letters across the top of the board added detail to the plans;

"_Farringfield Green – A Development of 1, 2 and 3 bed apartments. Coming soon."_

Alex wasn't sure what part disturbed her most; the fact that they were planning to build over Farringfield Green or the fact that it seemed to be all the rage to call them apartments rather than flats these days. At what point during the _waking up in the real world_ process had that happened?

She stood and scanned the area with her eyes for a moment. The whole area had been levelled; the farmhouse had gone and the scarecrow no longer standing guard over the field. Alex wasn't sure whether she was relieved or distressed to find this. Even though she had expected it she still felt her heart aching to know that the place where Gene had lain for so long had turned its back to the young copper who'd slept in his shallow grave.

She walked slowly towards the area that had been fenced off for preparation towards the start of the development. She made sure every step was slow and deliberate. With the stress of the day, the travelling and a lack of sleep and food she was feeling fairly unsteady and the last thing she wanted was to slip and hurt herself or her baby – or to end up with a mudpie for a face. She could just imagine that happening. It would be just her luck.

As she came closer to the spot – the very place that her discovery many years ago had led to so much – the kicks inside her grew stronger as the baby began to kick and flail wildly. She wondered whether her own emotions and stress were affecting the little life inside of her or whether somehow the baby _knew_. Her hand ran across her stomach as though to comfort the child. With each day that passed she grew noticeably bigger and her stomach grew harder to the touch. She closed her eyes for a moment and wished desperately that Gene had been there to share the changes with her. He was missing out on so much.

A shiver came over her shoulders as she came to a sudden halt. Her eyes closed and her lungs took in a deep breath. She realised, although she almost couldn't believe it, that she was standing on the very spot where Constable 6620 had lain. Why had that part not been fenced off? Was it not going to be part of the development? Was it was only going to be part of the 'lavish garden' that the information towering above her promised. She could understand that in a way. Perhaps they would even mark the spot somehow. She doubted that but it gave her a little comfort to think of it.

All at once she found herself drawn down to the ground, as though something was pulling at her, dragging her down. She sank to the muddy grass, her knees bent as she crouched right over the place where Gene's body had lain. Awash with a sudden swell of grief and sorrow she choked back a sob and watched as tears ran down her cheeks and landed on the ground. Suddenly 1983 didn't seem like '_all those years ago'._ It could almost have been yesterday.

"Oh _Gene," _she whispered, watching as her tears sank beneath the grass and earth, "I can still hear it. Your story. Word for word." She closed her eyes, her lip trembling. His words ran through her mind, talking of the shallow grave that the young man did not deserve. She remembered her own words too. She could see it all in her mid, as plain as a movie.

Perhaps going back hadn't been such a good idea. She didn't feel any closure from it, nor did she feel that any aspect of the developments were going to bring Gene the peace he needed. But before she cursed herself too strongly for making a mistake and retracing footsteps she should have left well enough alone she closed her eyes as a strange feeling washed over her; a tingle that passed right through her from her head to her toes. She shuddered and gasped as she tried to reconcile it with the cold breeze and the strain of the day. The place must have been getting to her, she told herself. For the sake of her blood pressure it was probably time to get back to the car.

Slowly getting back to her feet, she stared down at the ground one last time and traced the shape of a letter G into the soil with the toe of her shoe. The tiniest flicker of a smile crossed her face.

"I'm on my way," she whispered. With that she turned and began the slow walk back to the car. All the way back she couldn't shed that feeling; the strange sensation that overcame her as she'd stood on that familiar spot. It stayed with her, a reminder of why she was doing this. Gene needed peace and she knew now that Farringfield Green wasn't the place that was going to offer it.

_Time to press on._

~xXx~

**1. Stolen Shaving Moments** by **EvanLover2011**

Sequel to Smooth Skinned Sinner; Evan knows that he must pay the price for his crimes and suffer the daily shave. But when he finds himself beginning to enjoy it he realises he needs to rethink his whole way of life.

_Rated: M - English - Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 4 - Words: 8,852 - Reviews: 24 - Updated: 01-07-12 - Published: 12-13-11 – Evan. W & Geoff_

**2. Beards Behind Bars** by **FuzzyFace**

Evan is nothing without this beard. Can he find a way to let his beloved facial hair grow back while still locked away? Rated T for language and graphic descriptions of shaving

_Rated: T - English – Angst - Chapters: 6 - Words: 11,398 - Reviews: 48 - Updated: 01-04-12 - Published: 12-01-11 – Evan. W & Beard_

**3. Confessions of a Beard Model** by **StrokeMyBeard83**

A/U version of Evan's beard modelling career. I was so heartbroken by clearly false accusations on Dispatches that I wanted to write my own version of his rise to fame and trial coverage.

_Rated: M - English - Angst/Drama - Chapters: 28 - Words: 75,976 - Reviews: 109 - Updated: 01-02-12 - Published: 10-22-11 – Evan. W & Beard_

~x~

"What in the name of absolute _fuck_ are you doing?"

Robin had never, _ever_ heard Kim sound so distressed or alarmed. He dropped his phone a little guiltily and turned to her horrified face.

"I was just checking that there were no more inflammatory fics posted," he protested, "the last thing we need is a call telling us we're needed back at work to calm a beard riot."

"As long as that was _all_ you were doing," Kim warned, "I'm not comforting you if you accidentally read one and wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat again. "

Robin switched off his phone and tucked it away. He turned to Kim whose cheeks were looking a slightly more healthy shade.

"How are you feeling now," he asked.

Kim felt herself turning red and looked away in embarrassment.

"Rob, please stop reminding me about that, I'm fine," she said, "I feel really stupid. I just want to forget it."

Robin nodded and bit his lip, torn between feeling worried about Kim and guilty for pressing the matter. He watched out the window as Alex came into view, walking slowly towards them.

"Well, it looks like we're almost ready for the next phase of the journey," Robin said quietly, "I'll try to drive smoothly."

"It's _fine_, " Kim said quietly as the back door opened and Alex climbed slowly in. she breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her, glad to leave Farringfield Green behind. "Ma'am?" Kim asked, "how was it?"

Alex made her expression as neutral as she could.

"Hard," she said quietly, "but it's over now. And I needed to do it."

"Are you ready to move on?" Robin asked.

Alex nodded.

"Please," she said quietly.

"Alright," Robin nodded and started the engine running again.

Silence fell between them as they began the next leg of their journey, one that would take them right to Gene's hometown. No part of the journey was ever going to be easy, but Alex felt genuine relief to finally be working towards her aim. After waiting for so long, despite the difficult situations they were facing, she finally felt as though she could make things happen. As the miles passed by, her confidence rose incrementally. Home was getting closer. It had been a long time coming.


	78. Chapter 40, 1997: Bleating On

**Chapter 40: 1997**

"_This,"_ Simon mumbled to himself as he entered the service station by way of a suspicious glare at a small, newly-planted yucca plant, "is the most stupid thing that I have ever done in my life."

He knew he had an excuse for being so unbelievably disorganised. It was an emergency – he needed to make his way to Manchester as fast as possible and stop Gene from letting the pub doors close behind him. But even so, Simon was the kind of person who liked to have a plan in place. He liked to be organised, to know exactly where he was going and what he was doing. He hated surprises and unplanned turns of events.

So when he found himself on the road, during along with no idea where he was going, yelling at random strangers on the street _"Which way is Manchester_?" he knew he was out of his depth.

"I've got to be bloody crazy," he mumbled as he joined the queue.

Somehow though he knew he was doing the right thing. He had no choice, really. He couldn't let Gene make a mistake like that. He cursed himself for not keeping a closer eye on him, but he'd really started to think that Gene had seen sense.

It had taken Simon some time to find his way onto the motorway and start heading in the right direction. The sight of a sign saying _'To The North'_ had been an enormous relief. However, he quickly realised that he needed to be more prepared for what was ahead. He had no map, no idea where he was going, he had little petrol left and he hadn't had anything to eat or drink all morning. Plus he hadn't had the chance to go to the toilet and had been crossing his legs since leaving Fenchurch.

The service station had been a welcome sight and he knew he could solve at least some of his issues there. He quickly found the toilets to relieve one problem, then paid a visit to the shop at the petrol station to purchase the relevant maps. Finally he stopped off to pick up some food and drink for the journey. He worried that he was wasting precious time by doing so but it was better than passing out from dehydration on the way, he decided. Still, he could have done without the evils that the yucca plant was throwing his way.

He quickly bought a coffee and a few snacks, then set off back to his car to fill up with petrol. There was a fair queue so while he waited he opened his new map to the right page to keep an eye on where he was heading. He laid the map on the seat beside him and spotted the pile of post underneath it. _Damn postman,_ he sighed to himself. What a twat. There probably wasn't anything of interest there anyway. He flicked idly through the bundle – bills, junk mail, a letter from the guinea pig association – one package stood out from the rest, tucked at the back of the pile. It was the one he'd ben supposed to sign for. He felt a little guilty for his postal outburst now, but it was too late to do anything about it.

Just as he was about to open up the package and see what was so important the queue started to move forward and he reached his turn to fill up with petrol. It didn't matter; the package would wait until later. The sooner his tank was full the sooner he could be back on the road and heading towards the place that Gene still called home.

~xXx~

Gene's journey had been planned somewhat better than Simon's. For one thing, he knew he was going in advance which most _definitely_ helped matters. He'd had plenty of time to think things through. One last takeaway latte from his favourite establishment had ensured refreshments for the journey, his route had been planned down to the last turning, he had a full tank of petrol and a bladder of steel. He had no need for toilet breaks or service stations. All he cared about was getting to his destination in style in his brand new set of wheels. It was a damn shame that he wasn't going to be able to make better use of his new acquisition but he realised it was better to give the car two days of fun and then say goodbye forever than to leave it to live a lifetime with a boring driver.

He had a couple of additional stops before he would call at the Railway Arms. There were two important places that he needed to visit first. The first one was going to be the hardest so it was better to get it out of the way first. The closer he came to it, the more it made him shudder inside.

It was a crisp, cold but clear day. As he pulled up at the side of the road and stared out of the window he wished that the sky was not quite that blue. It felt wrong. He opened the door and stepped out of the car for the first time since Fenchurch. His legs were a little stiff and he shook them a little on the spot. The field that stretched out before him was too familiar and he wished, for the first time in many years, that he just _didn't know_. There had been something to say for forgetting the truth.

His eyes moved to the farmhouse. It never changed. It looked exactly the same as the day that he'd followed Alex all the way to Farringfield Green and she found the one thing she had never, ever wanted to find. He bowed his head slightly as he began to walk slowly towards the straw-based fellow whose arms were always open to him. Below his shadow lay the body that Gene had once inhabited, back in a different world. With each and every step he took, Gene relived another moment of the day a young man's life was taken away from him, ended much too soon by someone whose gun was bigger than his brain.

He finally reached it; _the exact spot._ His eyes turned to the ground. He could still see Alex frantically digging away in his mind's eye, searching for something that she didn't find and not expecting in a million years the one thing that she found instead.

He wasn't sure what happened but he found himself down on his knees suddenly, almost as though the pressure of the memory had dragged him down. It felt as though knowing he was still down there, and would be for more than another decade, turned up the gravity in the area and he couldn't stay on his feet.

"_I'm sorry,"_ he said with a slightly stilted voice. He wasn't even sure who he was saying sorry to – the young man who never had a chance to live his life or the grown man who did. "Bit off more than I could chew. Thought I ruled the roost. Me cowboy boots took over me brain."

He found a heaviness settling in his chest. He rarely thought about the young man he used to be, the one who had died on his first week of duty. That didn't even seem like a part of him most of the time. Being back on that land forced him to face it.

"I cheated you out of yer own life," he said quietly, "you deserved better." He bowed his head again. "I'm sorry."

As he knelt there, a strange sensation fell upon him, tingling across his shoulders and sending a shudder down his spine. It wasn't unpleasant though. That was the strange part. It felt _familiar_. He closed his eyes as he caught a scent in the air.

"_Bolly,"_ he whispered. His eyes opened again and he looked all around him. There was no sign of anyone nearby. What had he expected? Alex to appear out of nowhere? He shook his head slowly and sighed. "Stupid crusty fool," he mumbled to himself as he slowly got to his feet.

As he stared down at the soil beneath his feet one last time, knowing who lay beneath it, he came to realise something; something that he had never thought about before. He may have felt the need to apologise to the young Gene Hunt who never stood a chance for taking away his opportunity at living his own life, but he realised how much he would have missed out on. How far would he have gone in his own career? He had no idea. Maybe he'd have been a DCI still. Maybe he would have chosen a different path. There was no way of knowing. But he'd never have had the chance to help all those lost souls to find their way.

And he'd certainly never have met Alex.

He took in a deep breath as he allowed himself to contemplate those facts. While he knew that it was also true that if he'd never met Alex he wouldn't be feeling so low, he wouldn't have swapped the last 16 years for the world.

With a final nod, he drew a simple cross in the ground with the toe of his boot then he turned around and walked briskly back to his car. That was the first part of his journey over and done with. He'd faced the shallow grave one last time. Now it was time to put that behind him and to say one last goodbye to a place where he'd shared happier times and took away a great deal of memories from.

No matter how long he'd been away, in his mind he would always be the head of A Division.

~xXx~

Simon found himself feeling more and more determined the closer he came to Manchester. There was a nagging little thought at the back of his mind that tried to interrupt his focus every now and then, reminding him that he had his own connection of the place. All that had come out about his family recently had made him more aware that there was a whole part of his history that he knew nothing about. He wasn't even sure which part of Manchester his mother had originated from or whether he had any family remaining up there. But that was a distraction and he couldn't allow himself to be swayed from his path. He needed to find Gene first and foremost – that was his task.

He turned a corner, pleased with the quiet shortcut he'd found to cut time and distance off his journey. He was glad that he'd taken a few minutes to plan out the best route. He missed the luxury of a satnav more than ever but at least his trusty map hadn't let him down. However, nothing had prepared him for the bleating, woollen surprise ahead.

"_Baaaaa,"_ the sheep turned and said to him.

"_Shit!"_

Simon slammed on his brakes and skidded to a halt before he struck any of the unexpected sheep that were crossing before him. Right across the road, a line of the little fluffy gits were walking; each one following the sheep before them, taking their journey at a slow and leisurely pace. It was a single-file line of sheep with seemingly no human influence. Where was their farmer? They had to have one, right?

"_Oi!"_ Simon put his head out of the window and yelled, "get a move on!"

"_Baaaaa_," one especially sarcastic woollen specimen told him, which seemed to be the sheep equivalent of telling him to bugger off.

He honked his horn, he yelled, he swore but nothing Simon did made any difference. He growled and huffed, frustrated by the hold-up but assured himself over and over that the end of the line _had_ to be soon.

He was wrong.

For five long minutes, an endless trail of sheep passed by. He was starting to wonder if this was his punishment for all those nights when he used tranquilisers to knock him out. Were the sheep feeling pissed off about him not trying the age-old sheep-counting method instead?

"_Baaaaa."_

"Oh, I've had enough of your attitude!" Simon told them crossly, honking his horn one more time. He started the engine and began to move forward very, very slowly. The sheep somehow managed to oblige, standing to one side so that he could pass. "Thank god for _that,"_ he breathed a sigh of relief as he passed the line of sheep and began to accelerate, but he'd gone no farther than fifty meters or so when he had to hit the brakes again.

A line of sheep were walking slowly back across the road in the other direction.

_"Baaa,"_ one told him.

_"Shit!"_ Simon thumped his hands on the wheel, "they're going round in a bloody _circle!"_ he felt like sobbing, "no wonder they were going on forever!"

He tried his previous tactic of moving slowly towards them but this time the sheep were wise to his tricks and weren't having it for a moment. They just kept on walking by, a little faster and a little closer to make sure that Simon couldn't pass by.

"_Now_ what?" he cried, throwing his hands in the air.

He couldn't bring himself to move forward and create an array of lamb chops across the road but he needed to do something. Reluctantly he pulled out his phone, relieved to find he had a signal and called 999.

"My name is DCI Simon Shoebury," he said, "I'm stuck on a side road with a trail of sheep passing by. No, I haven't been drinking. They're circling me. No, seriously, they're just going round and round and I'm stuck in the middle. No, I have _not_ taken any suspicious substances! Look, either someone comes and helps me out or there will be mutton on the motorway for miles around! _Thank_ you!"

He gave them a more accurate destination and finally curt his engine. He had no choice but to sit back for a while. _Oh god,_ why did this have to happen _now? _And why to Simon? For god's sake, he had to get to _Gene!_ He had already lost almost ten minutes to the wool beasts.

As he waited for the police to arrive and help him out his eyes turned back to the pile of post beside him. He never did have the chance to open his package. With a sigh he reached out and picked it from the pile. The address on the front was typed and the package fairly heavy. He slipped his finger in the corner and opened it quickly then pulled the contents into his lap and immediately his scowl grew and his spirits darkened.

"Fucking _bastard,"_ he mumbled as he realised the mysterious sender was just Keats with another pack of family surprises. He took several deep breaths, trying to cool his anger. It didn't really help. He couldn't work out why many of the items were 'repeats' – things Keats had already set him. He presumed it had been spurred on by his denial of Keats's last package – the man must have been desperate to make sure that Simon hadn't missed any important items.

One item caught Simon's eye though. It was a tape, but different to the ones from the marriage guidance sessions. The reason it struck him was because the handwriting on the slip inside the case was familiar.

"That's Gene's writing," he whispered.

He couldn't help shuddering. It made no sense to him how Gene could have been the arresting officer here when he was fairly sure that things had to have been different in the real world. He shook his head slowly, trying to work out what to do. His curiosity was growing, as much as he hated to admit it. He knew that the last time he listened to a tape it had only led to trouble but there he was, in the middle of a ring of sheep, stuck with no way out, feeling desperate and stressed on his mission to stop Gene from heading to the pub. It wasn't as though there was much he could do to distract himself.

"_Shit."_

He was losing the battle. His fingers drummed against the case for a few seconds before he flipped it open, took the tape out and slipped it into the tape recorder in his car. Before he could stop himself he pressed play, closed his eyes and steeled himself.

"_Interview commencing; one-oh-six a.m. DCI Gene Hunt, suspect Marie Ann Shoebury, also present is DC Skelton. So, Marie, I know they already smell like a sewer so it could be an easy mistake to make but what did that unsuspecting tramp do to deserve being turned into a public toilet for you and yer girlfriends?"_

Simon flinched as he heard the Gene spiel he knew so well directed at his own mother. It made for uncomfortable listening and certainly not something he was prepared for. He cringed as he heard his mother's tearful protests that she was the only sober one of the bunch, that her family had changed, that she'd never known them to behave that way before and that she hadn't done a thing wrong.

"_I'm up for one night!"_ she cried, _"the wedding's not until the weekend. I didn't even want to go but you know what families are like."_

"_No, love, I don't. don't have much of one meself. Certainly not one that pisses on the homeless."_

"_They guilt you into things. I'm supposed to be matron of honour, I had to go."_

"_Here's a tip – next time you see yer sister aiming a golden shower at someone who lists his address as 'third drain under the arch' it's time to go home."_

_"I can't go home! My coach isn't for hours. And now the rest of my family are spending the night banged up in here what am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to sleep?"_

"_Don't try the third drain under the arch, stinks of piss."_

Simon closed his eyes and felt himself starting to do something that surprised him. He started to cry. Hearing his mother, lost and helpless, subjected to the acid tongue of Gene no less, hurt him so deeply. There was a part of him that hated Gene for putting her through the kind of grilling he'd heard him give a thousand times. He knew he was only doing his job and to Gene his mother was just another young woman who'd overdone it with the alcohol but it hurt so much.

His mind went back to the marriage guidance tapes. So she'd had nowhere to go and ended up going home with some _stranger?_ His stomach turned and twisted, he felt nauseous and hot. He couldn't process what he'd been hearing. It made him start to boil with anger inside.

Before he could stop himself he opened the window and screamed at the sheep,

"_Just fuck the hell off, you collection of woolly arseholes, before I turn you into dinner and socks!"_

To his surprise the sheep seemed to stop in their tracks, staring at him with a _baaa _and a slightly fluffy scowl. He took the opportunity to start the car and move slowly forward, past the sheep and back on his journey.

He knew he shouldn't have listened to that tape. Now he had a barrage of extra emotions dogging him on the journey. Feeling angry at Gene probably wasn't the best way to convince him not to go to the pub. He hoped some of his anger would dissipate as he continued on to Manchester. He still had a little way to go yet. With bleating still ringing in his ears, he tried to focus on the road. There would be time to confront Gene about some of his choice words towards his mother after he'd convinced him to give Fenchurch another go.

That's if he ever found him, of course.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I'm sorry I really am, I've had the plan for this story all worked out for months and months and never were there supposed to be any sheep in it. And then very strong painkillers happened and suddenly I spent a while afternoon creating this. These painkillers may have been pregnancy safe but they are NOT fic-safe! I'm not crazy, honestly…**_


	79. Chapter 41, 2012: Next Stop

**Chapter 41: 2012**

It seemed as though forever had passed since they'd set off from home that morning but finally they were _there_. They'd finally reached Manchester, despite the detour up to Farringfield Green, and for the most part they had been quiet as they took in the surroundings. Now as Robin looked for a space in the car park Kim piped up,

"You know, I've never been to Manchester before."

"I've been a few times," Alex said quietly, "a couple of conferences. A course, I think. I had a few appointments with Sam Tyler, and there were a couple of cases that brought me here. But I certainly didn't see much of the place beyond work."

"I've only been once," said Robin. The resulting silence and stares made him realise Kim and Alex were waiting for an explanation of the reason behind his visit. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I was visiting Queer as Folk locations," he blushed.

With an amused smile, Kim gave a little laugh.

"Rob, that's so geeky," she said, "looking for TV locations, who does that?"

"Me for a start," Robin smiled.

"Not to break up the television appreciation society," Alex began, "but we really need to start this."

Robin nodded seriously.

"I know," he said quietly.

"Who's going in?" Kim asked.

"I think it should be me," Alex told them, "this is my journey. I should be the one to do it."

"But you don't have your warrant card, your ID or anything," Robin reminded her, "I totally understand why you want to but just from an official point of view I think Kim or I should go. We can pass it off as a Fenchurch East investigation."

"Rob, your rank is highest, you should go," Kim told him.

Robin glanced at Alex. He was anxious that they might appear to be taking over what they both knew was Alex's mission but they all wanted it to have the best chance of succeeding. Alex understood that. She nodded slowly.

"Alright," she said quietly, "I agree." She looked at Robin. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't," he told her. He made sure he had his ID with him, mumbled a couple of views about wishing he'd had the forethought to at least be in uniform then stepped out of the car, Alex looking on anxiously. She knew that every single place they were going, every person they would speak to and every idea that she had been brewing were important in their own right and any one of them could lead to the first step home. This was just one stop of a difficult day. She hoped that they all had the strength to carry on.

~xXx~

Robin did feel slightly anxious as he waited inside of the building. He knew he wasn't supposed to be there and despite the fact that he knew all his credentials would check out as genuine if anyone tried to check up the legitimacy of his 'investigation' they would find very little.

"Chief Inspector Thomas?" a slightly hassled-looking young man with sweaty palms and glasses which looked to have been fixed with sellotape walked quickly towards him.

"Yes," said Robin. He held out his hand to shake the man's, realising too late that this gentleman had the sweatiest palms in the known universe He flinched a little and took the first opportunity to reach into his pocket and wipe his hand on a handkerchief.

"I'm Inspector Talbot," the man told him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose a little further, "I hear you wanted to speak to someone about the Unknown Copper who fell at Farringfield Green."

_Fell at?_ Interesting choice of phrase, Robin thought. 'Had his brains blown out at' – more like.

"Yes," said Robin, "that's right."

"Would you come down to one of the spare rooms where we can talk in peace?" Talbot told him, hurrying along.

Robin tried to keep up the pace. This was one fast damn inspector. What was he doing, training for the Cop Olympics? He knew it was 2012 but for goodness sake…

"Thank you for seeing me on the spot," Robin said, panting slightly at the pace, "My sergeant was supposed to have arranged a meeting." He was getting better at lying and bluffing than he used to be. It helped when you lived with Kim, for a start. She had a poker face that could fool a team of psychologists when she was playing a trick.

"That's quite alright," said Talbot as he finally reached a small office, opened the door and allowed Robin to pass. "Please, take a seat."

Robin was glad to. In fact, after the high-speed trot through the corridors he'd have been glad for a lie down instead. He tried to catch his breath as Talbot sat opposite and awaited more information.

"As you know," Robin began, "I've been looking at attempting to identify the unknown copper."

"Yes, I saw from our records that you requested a number of items of paperwork," Talbot told him. Robin nodded. The papers that he'd acquired a few weeks earlier for Alex had managed to back up his story fairly well. "I'm unsure how much more I can help you with. I think you received almost everything that we had on the case."

"Well, I'm narrowing down the possible identities of the man," Robin began, pulling from his pocket the list of possibilities that he'd been sent.

"Why is the Met involved anyway?" Talbot asked, "We were unaware that anyone outside of the local area would have any valid reason for wishing to help us identify the body."

"It doesn't look good for _anyone_ in service if we give up on putting a name to one of our own men," Robin said firmly, fairly impressed with himself for coming up with such a line, "we're looking at a few instances of officers who have lost their lives and have never been identified." He turned the list of names around for Talbot to see. "Now, we've looked at the names on this list and the one we're focusing on is this man. PC six-six-two-oh. Gene Hunt."

Talbot nodded.

"Of the Greater Lancaster Constabulary" he said, "defunct now."

"Who would have his papers now?" asked Robin, "his personal details?"

"Presuming there's anything left, we would," said Talbot, "but really, I think you have most of what we have." He paused. "Why are you focusing on this man in particular?"

Robin could feel his cheeks starting to burn. He could hold up the bluffing for just so long before he started to get a little self-conscious.

"We have found information that discounts the other names but not this one," he said quickly, "what can you tell me about his family?"

"Doesn't seem to be any bloodline left," Talbot told him, "parents died, brother died, no decedents. We did find there was a sister on his mother's side but we didn't get very far in tracing her bloodline."

"Why not?" frowned Robin.

"Estranged," said Talbot, "they were only half-sisters. Her father remarried. We don't believe they even ever met."

"But if it can help to ID the officer –"

"Chief Inspector, as you'll have read from the files there was no useable DNA. The body had been practically open to the elements for years._ Decades. _And the relationship between the half-sister's family and this man would have been too distant to have been able to get a decent match anyway."

"But for other reasons," Robin tried, "if you could trace that woman or her descendants you could maybe have confirmed that he had more family here… maybe confirm the date he disappeared…"

"Nothing concrete to tie the officer in to a certain family line."

"If nothing else, if the two are related then she should at least know that the fallen man was a relative."

"Chief Inspector, even if she was still alive and well, or has a bundle of offspring taking over the Greater Manchester area, the fact remains that we established she was unlikely to know about that part of her bloodline. I don't see that she would have any interest in helping us."

"This isn't about her – this is about identifying an unknown officer who died in the most horrible way!"

Talbot leaned back and gave a deep sigh. It was a Saturday. He was supposed to be heading home in half an hour. He wanted to play football with his boys in the park. He didn't want to argue with some southern copper about a man who died decades before he was even born. Sometimes it was best just to give up and give in.

"Look," he began, "For the sake of doing my bit I'll give you whatever we have about PC Hunt and his family, including his aunt. But you'll draw a blank, the same as we did, and even if you don't I don't understand what you think you can achieve by this. The cop's ashes are scattered already. It's not like I'm going to crawl on my knees round the memorial garden with a pot and a pair of tweezers, going _'Oh! Here's a bit!' "_

Robin didn't like his attitude.

"The least that man deserves is a plaque with his name on," he said firmly.

"Feel free to make one, just don't expect to ever get an official version," Talbot told him, getting to his feet. "I'll get what we have from the archives. Wait here for a moment."

"_Thank_ you," Robin said a little huffily. He folded his arms as he watched Talbot leave. He didn't like that man's attitude in the slightest. He eyed up the filing cabinet and wondered if he had enough strength to try the Gene Hunt method to receive the information he needed if necessary. He was actually starting to see its appeal.

~xXx~

"Here."

Alex looked up in surprise as the car door opened and a bundle of cuttings and papers found themselves aimed in her direction.

"What did you get?" she asked, a little shocked.

"This is all they have on Gene," Robin explained, "I'm pretty sure some of it just duplicates what we already had but there's some information about his faily too. Apparently there's a half-aunt that they abandoned looking for."

"A what?" asked Kim.

"Gene's mother's father remarried," said Robin, "not sure which sister was the elder one. Unlikely she's still around but she may have decedents. Married some wealthy man and they ran a jewellery shop. Had a couple of branches. Don't know if they're still running but we have a possible blood connection to Gene here."

Alex stared at the bundle of information. Although it didn't seem like very much, even a distant relation was more than they had before.

"Rob, thank you," she said quietly, "I can't tell you how much this means to me."

Robin settled himself back in the driver's seat, trying to ignore the photograph of a young Gene that had come along with the information. Very little remained of his original details but there _was_ a photograph. It stung to see a more than passing similarity to a younger Simon. He was struggling still to comprehend that connection. He found himself getting into dark territory in his mind; Simon and Gene, himself and Keats – it was all bigger than he was able to comprehend and he shook his head to try to beat away those thoughts.

"Where next, Alex?" he asked quietly.

As Alex tried to compose her thoughts enough to make a suggestion the sound of Kim's stomach growling put forward a suggestion of its own.

"I think that might be one vote for a late lunch," Alex commented.

Kim folded her arms crossly and her cheeks reddened.

"I didn't think I was that hungry," she mumbled in embarrassment.

"Food is probably not a bad idea," Robin agreed, "it's not like any of us ate breakfast."

"Poor croissants," said Kim, "shunned by all."

"It will give me time to look over this," Alex said quietly, tidying the papers into a pile and holding them tightly.

"Alright," Robin started the engine, "let's find somewhere to eat and get something quickly. Where are we going after that?"

Alex hesitated.

"Somewhere I need to see for a different reason," she said quietly.

~xXx~

It was a far cry from the atmosphere of _Luigi's,_ Alex thought to herself as they sat in a generic branch of _Bella Italia_. She still missed Luigi's. she understood that it had to 'disappear' in order to reappear when she needed to help someone to move on, but there were days when she just wished she could go back and spend one night there again.

That wasn't to say that they were having a normal, generic meal. For some reason bizarre things just seemed to happen around them. They'd already spotted one woman dumping a lasagne onto her pizza and a man who was juggling breadsticks. And doing it rather well, they had to admit.

"Why do weirdos follow us?" Robin fretted, hiding behind his hair, "I mean, look – it doesn't matter where we go there's always _something_ stupid going on."

"Says the man who misses his baked bean tin drum kit," Kim smiled.

As much as the anticipation and nerves had put them off the thought of eating for much of the day now that they had made the journey and were where they needed to be they'd all been in need of sustenance and the hearty pasta had gone down well. They all started to feel just a little more human and ready for whatever came next.

Alex had been given the opportunity to look through the papers that Robin had procured. Although there wasn't much of value she now knew they at least had one branch of a family tree to pursue if it came down to it, although it seemed a little far removed to make much of a difference. She wasn't sure that finding one relative that Gene had never met was going to bring him any peace, but she wasn't going to knock back another avenue to find her way home.

"Here's the next place I want to go," Alex told Robin, handing him a piece of paper with the address written upon it.

"Right," Robin took the paper and scanned it briefly, even though he didn't know the first thing about Manchester or have a clue where the place was.

"We won't be there for long," Alex told him, "it's just a place I feel that I have to go."

"Sounds ominous," Kim said curiously.

"Just as a little reminder to myself," Alex said, more for her own benefit than anything, "to keep fighting." She paused and closed her eyes, "because some people _do_ get back."

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I couldn't let today pass without pointing out that this day two years ago the first episode of the last series of A2A aired. Still missing it, still want to slap someone for the fact that Alex was dead, still can't believe it's been two years almost since the end. But mostly feeling grateful to the show that finally killed off the dreaded writer's block, big-style. I would be going officially crazy by now if it wasn't for writing and I'm so glad I had the opportunity to make friends and meet lovely people through writing A2A fic. Thanks, A2A – missing you still!**_


	80. Chapter 41, 1997: Familiar Faces

**Chapter 41: 1997**

It felt very strange to be parking anything other than a Cortina.

That was the first thing that came to mind for Gene. The second thing that came to mind was how little the place had changed on the outside. He was fairly sure things would look very different _inside_. It was now, what, less than ten years until Sam Tyler would get struck by a car and rant about the place. He knew the insides of the station he knew so well were very different for Sam so many of the changes must have taken place already. After all, Gene himself hadn't stepped inside that building since 1980.

He wasn't even sure what he was doing there to be honest. He hadn't been back since he started his new job and new life in London, his colleagues of old were long gone and there would be little of his influence left. But he just needed to go back one last time, to say goodbye in his own way.

He was torn between feeling out of place and hesitant, and feeling as though he still ruled the roost as he entered the station. He could see immediately that his hypothesis had been right, there were no familiar faces around and he received some very strange looks from various officers and detectives who had no idea who he was. He had to do a little fast talking to be allowed to make his way to the old, familiar office that he used to know like the back of his hand but luckily only had to threaten about three or four people with filing-cabinet related violence.

He cursed himself for feeling anything other than a hundred percent in control as he strode into CID, to the office where A Division had once been his pride and joy. Now shiny desks with computers and other equipment that made him want to run a mile stood in place of the piles of paperwork and dingy furniture. This time, to _Gene_ it was like waking up on another planet. He almost understood now what Sam Tyler meant all those years ago.

Almost. Tyler was still off his rocker. _In the nicest possible way_, Gene added silently.

As his eyes scanned the space he noticed there was _one_ piece of old furniture still left on the premises.

"_Bloody hell, someone call me an emergency optician,"_ a familiar voice declared out of the blue_, "because either my eyes are going or DCI Hunt has just entered the premises."_

Gene almost fell over a desk in shock. He hadn't expected to see a familiar face, at least not _this_ one.

"Phyllis Dobbs, " he declared.

"Thanks for the reminder but my marbles haven't gone yet, Guv, I know my own name," Phyllis told him."

Gene stared on, shaking his head in some state of shock. Had no one moved her on yet? Why hadn't she gone to the pub? He knew he'd dragged his feet with certain members of his team but – _Phyllis?_ How many years… _decades_… had she been there? Surely _someone_ should have sent her along for last orders by now. Bloody hell, she must have had more issues than Gene realised.

"Well, I'd say you were a sight for sore eyes but you could always see through me lies," he told her.

"I see they forgot to remove your sense of humour when you moved down south," Phyllis told him. There was a hint of a smile there, a fondness, a nostalgic moment that neither was going to admit to. Gene noticed one difference in Phyllis's appearance.

"Where's yer uniform?" he asked, "shrunk in the wash again, Dobbs?"

"No, Guv," Phyllis raised an eyebrow, "they tend to frown on Detective Inspectors wearing the uniform. Unless it's fancy dress."

Gene couldn't help but let his raised eyebrows betray his surprise – and also a little pride. _Good on you, Phyllis,_ he thought to himself. Perhaps every now and then someone really had to stay for longer than expected to get the mileage they deserved from their second go at life. He nodded in approval and held out his hand to shake hers.

"Well, congratulations on somehow managing to sweet talk your way out of uniform, _Inspector,"_ he said.

Phyllis looked at his hand, then rolled her eyes.

"You're a bloody daft sod, DCI Hunt, I'm not going to bite," she told him. Taking him by surprise she took hold of his face, planted a long-lost auntie-style kiss on his cheek and pushed him back again. With a slight cry of alarm Gene rubbed at the lipstick mark on his cheek and took a step back.

"Steady on, Inspector," he said, a little flustered. He shook his head slightly but couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. Not when seeing a familiar face had made all the difference. He found himself trying not to smile. "Anyway, hate to disappoint you love but I'm not here for a whirlwind romance."

"Oh Guv, you're breaking my heart," Phyllis put her hands on her hips, "if you're here for a drink I'm not off duty for another three hours so you'll have to buy your own round first."

"That's alright," Gene gave a slow nod, "I was planning on drinking alone." He glanced around. "One other old face I wanted to see before I went," he began, "any chance you could tell me where the Regional Crime Squad is located at this moment in time?"

"Up two floors and down the corridor," Phyllis told him.

Gene nodded.

"Time for one more stop then," he said. He gave Phyllis the slightest smile. "Now back to work, Inspector Dobbs. Stop trying to butter up rogue DCIs with yer womanly charms.

Phyllis smiled.

"Yes, Guv," she said as watched him walk away.

~xXx~

"Where the fucking hell am I?"

Simon had no idea. OK, he knew he was in Manchester but that was as much as he could say. He had no idea where he was going from there. He tried to find out where The Railway Arms was but no one seemed to know and instead pointed him in the direction of random pubs that had either_ 'Railway' _or _'Arms'_ or even just _'The'_ in their name somewhere. He wished he had his iPhone. God, he hadn't even _thought_ about that in a long time. But things would have been so much easier with a little 21st century technology to back up his efforts. When did Google come about anyway? He was fed up with 90s search engines. He wanted to punch Jeeves in the face.

He started to rethink things. He remembered Gene talking about 'going home' for a visit. If he was going straight to the pub then that wouldn't quite make sense. Where else would he stop off first? He had no family as far as Simon knew. All of Gene's stories of his home town involved his work.

"Of course," Simon snapped his fingers as the idea came to him. If there was one place Gene would want to go it would be to his old station. Starting up his engine again he felt his heart pounding. He knew time was running out and just hoped he was going to make it.

~xXx~

"Bugger."

An empty office with no sign of Litton pissed Gene off beyond compare.

One of the things he'd been looking forward to was one final wind-up of the moustached one. He exhaled loudly and scuffed his shoes along the floor as he approached his previous nemesis' desk. Hanging on the wall beside it were a few clippings about Litton's various success stories. '_Litton does it again'; 'Pig-Faced Gang Back behind Bars thanks to Litton'_ and '_My Moustache Through The Ages by DCI Litton_.' Gene regarded that one with a shudder and noticed, on the most recent photograph, that Litton appeared to have grown a goatee beard to go with his lip furniture.

Gene sighed and shook his head. He needed a drink to help him get past that image so he began to search through Litton's personal artefacts until he found a bottle of scotch and a glass. Nodding in approval, he poured himself a measure and downed it quickly. There wasn't very much left in the bottle but it was going with him, that was for sure. It was wasted on someone like Litton, especially when it was filtered through his moustache with every sip.

Just before he left Gene found a pen and a piece of paper, on which he wrote _"I was here. Where were you? Also, your scotch was here but it's not any more. See you on the other side. GH."_

Snickering to himself he tucked the bottle inside his coat and began his exit from the building. It had been a strange but fulfilling visit back to his old place of work and he was glad he'd chosen to do so. But now, the only thing on his mind was a _proper_ drink.

~xXx~

Simon swore and cursed. How many bloody police stations _were_ there in Manchester? Surely he had to find the right one soon. He'd already been to three, been laughed out of one, kicked out of two and been put on the _Do not Allow This Weirdo Into This_ Station list of all of them.

He pulled up outside yet another one a few moments after a black Aston Martin zoomed out of the car park, missing it by a minute at the most and ran inside so fast that his legs seemed to lose control and tangled themselves around an umbrella stand in the doorway, sending spokes in all directions, including painful ones. He tried to right both himself and the umbrella stand before he asked breathlessly whether a DCI in a long coat with a tendency to assault both people and filing cabinets had been by.

"Just missed him sir," an officer on the desk told him when he'd finally shown his ID and managed to prove that he wasn't some kind of lunatic.

Simon's head met the wall quite swiftly.

"_Fu-u-u-u-uck,"_ he wailed, torn between screaming and crying. All those stops, all those humiliating moments at the hands of constables and sergeants who had thrown him out by his ear, and all for nothing. He'd _still_ missed him.

He sank to the floor beside the umbrella stand and stared into the mess of mangled spokes. Well that was it then – he was fairly sure that would have been Gene's last stop. Now he had to find that damn pub and with speed because it sounded for all the world as though he was going to be too late. A minute too late. _Story of his life._

Ignoring all the stares and the angry-looking umbrellas he got back to his feet and addressed the officer behind the desk again.

"Can you tell me where I can find a pub called the Railway Arms, please?" he asked.

"Drinking is not going to solve your umbrella-hatred problem, sir," the officer said sadly.

"Official police business," Simon said through gritted teeth, "anyone who gets in the way of it will soon find an umbrella up the arse for their troubles!"

The officer gulped.

"Fine," he said, grabbing a piece of paper, "I'll draw you a map." He scribbled out a few instructions and handed the sheet to Simon. Simon studied it and scowled. He map was clear enough but there were a few extra illustrations that he wasn't so pleased about.

"The picture of my eye being stabbed out by a flock of angry umbrellas is completely inappropriate," he scowled, but had no time to address the situation properly. Now he had a map he had to get moving and stop Gene from crossing that line. This was one drink that he wasn't going to let the Guv consume.

~xXx~

Seeing the pub in its familiar surroundings for the first time in years was very strange to Gene. For the last sixteen… going on seventeen… years it came when it was needed, like an obedient dog. It had arrived at various spots around London, depending on where Gene was when he needed to deliver another soul. But now here it was, his local in his own home town.

He stepped out of his car and walked slowly towards it. He felt his eyes close just for a moment. That was the most at home he'd felt since the day Alex disappeared.

"Time for one last round," he said to himself as he walked towards the door

His hand closed over the handle and he drew in a deep breath. That pint was calling his name.


	81. Chapter 42, 2012: Jumping Point

**Chapter 42: 2012**

Alex stepped out of the car first and peered up to the top of the building. She had to shield her eyes from the setting sun as it stung her vision a little. She heard car doors opening and closing as Kim and Robin joined her.

"So why are we here?" Kim asked.

Alex took a deep breath as she carried on staring upwards.

"You're never the same when you've been," she said, "are you?"

Kim looked at her curiously.

"Been where?"

"Gene's world." Alex turned her attention back to her friends, "it changes you. Changes who you are. In good ways _and_ bad. But you're _never_ the same again." 

Robin and Kim exchanged a sideways look, then turned back to Alex with a nod.

"Very true," Robin said quietly.

"Sam Tyler," Alex began, "spent two years with Gene after being hit by a car in two thousand and six. He went into a deep coma for some time. When he woke up we were introduced on a professional level." She looked down, a slight sadness filling her expression. "Of course, _I_ was very different then. Ambitious psychologist, working on my book, everything was so black and white for me. It was all about… science, medicine and proven facts. If I couldn't see it, it wasn't real."

"I think we all used to live by that," Kim said quietly.

Alex looked back at the building.

"I met Sam a few times," she said quietly, "we had a couple of sessions, some basic interviews for my book, he made some tapes and wrote some reports for me. And then one day," her voice trailed away as her eyes turned to the roof of the building again. Kim and Robin looked at each other once again, both wondering where this was going.

"One day what?" Robin finally asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.

Alex took a deep breath.

"One day I got a call telling me the star case of my book was dead," she said quietly, "Sam… had been struggling with adjusting to the real world. Well, that's _natural_, of course… but this was different. He lost the ability to _feel_." She closed her eyes for a moment. "One day in a meeting one of his colleagues observed that he'd cut himself, accidentally of course – but he seemed to feel no pain. He excused himself," she opened her eyes again and looked at the roof one last time, "and went up there."

Kim and Robin looked at each other.

"What are you saying?" Kim asked, her heart starting to race.

"He took the ultimate step to go back to Gene and the friends he'd made there," Alex told them. Just to make sure they understood she used her fingers to demonstrate someone taking a leap from a great height then her eyes moved to the ground beneath their feet. "And he landed right here."

The looks on Kim and Robin's faces should have won them Oscars. The horror, disgust and revulsion spilled over from their expressions into their declarations of repulsion as both gave a literal jump backwards.

"Oh _eugh!"_ Kim cried, her face turning green, "we're standing in _Sam Tyler Splat Territory?"_

"You couldn't have _warned_ us?" Robin cried, wiping his shoes on the pavement.

"Oh, will you two _relax?"_ cried Alex, "it's not as though they've left any… _parts."_

Kim usually had a strong stomach and had seen crime scene photos that would make entrants to the Turner Prize look tame but this was a little too much.

"You couldn't have told us this story in the car?" she cried, her guts turning over.

Alex ignored the protests of her friends.

"He took the ultimate step to get back to that world," she said, "and for months I couldn't understand why. I _tried._ I felt like a failure. I hadn't spotted any signs that Sam was suicidal, I hadn't identified anything that might have led me to believe he'd take his own life." She paused. "It turned out there was a reason for that. He didn't commit suicide. It wasn't about taking his life. It was about taking _back_ the life he'd found in the past."

"That's a pretty big step to take," Robin said quietly.

"Of course, he could never have done that _now,"_ Alex said quietly, "we know what happens to 'suicides' now, whatever the reason behind it. Taking your own life leads you right into Keats's domain." She shook her head. "I don't know that I would ever have had the guts to do what Sam did anyway, no matter how much I need to get back. My head for heights isn't the best."

"I don't know, Ma'am," Kim said quietly, "wasn't there a certain toilet window incident in a certain pub?"

Alex looked down, her cheeks darkening as she smiled.

"Not quite the same," she said.

"I think it was," said Kim, "you both took a leap of faith."

Alex nodded slowly.

"Perhaps," she whispered. She paused and let her thoughts gather for a few moments before she said, "I just wanted to come here today to see the place for myself. To remind myself that you can get back, and that I will too." She let outher breath and closed her eyes. "_Somehow."_

She felt a hand on her arm from Kim, trying to give her the strength and support she needed to believe she would be back with Gene soon. As she turned to smile gratefully at her she felt a strange sensation like a gust of wind passing by, but after a moment she realised it felt more like the resulting breeze from a person who was in a hurry, running past and leaving a trail of dust in their wake. She glanced around but there was no one close enough.

"What's the matter?" Robin asked as he noticed her frown.

"That was… a curious feeling," Alex shuddered.

"What was?"

"Didn't you feel that breeze?"

Kim and Robin shook their heads and gave a shrug.

"Sorry, ma'am, I didn't feel anything," said Kim.

Alex bit her lip as she hesitated and looked all around her. There was certainly no one there now, but she knew what she had felt. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Maybe being on the Sam Tyler Splat Pile is starting to get to me," she tried to joke but only managed to make Kim gag.

"Can we please get away from this spot now?" she demanded, "I don't want to see my pasta again in reverse."

Alex nodded and turned around to walk back to the car.

"Where to now?" Robin asked.

Alex reached into her pocket for a list of destinations and folded the sheet to the next one on her mind.

"Here," she said, handing the sheet to Robin, "this is the next place I need to go. But I'd like to stop somewhere on the way."

"Where, exactly?"

"Anywhere there's a florist," said Alex.

Kim looked a little sad as she glanced at Alex.

"I think I know where we're going now then," she said quietly.

Alex nodded.

"I think you probably do," she whispered.

Without an identity and with no one to visit him she suspected Gene's ashes were rarely gifted any flowers, or even a passing guest. He deserved so much more, and she was going to make sure that he received even a small amount of the respect that he should be due.

Climbing back in the car, Robin set the satnav for the memorial garden, with a detour to a florist along the way. Their emotions were running high and the day was running short. Darkness was descending and there was still so much to do. Time was pressing on and every moment mattered.


	82. Chapter 42, 1997: No Entry

**A/N: Thanks a whole bunch, FFnet! I hurried to get this chapter written after the pub cliffhanger so no one would be waiting too long, uploaded it yesterday morning and the chapter didn't seem to be working - hours later the chapter STILL didn't work and r****euploading made no difference. I've deleted it again and I'm re-uploading it, I really hope this works this time, but for those of you who got the alerts yesterday and who found the chapter didn't work I'm so sorry -x-**

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 42: 1997**

Where was the glow?

Where was the energy, the tingling down the spine, the haze in the air? Where were all the familiar patrons, sitting there together, enjoying their drinks, greeting him warmly?

He knew how this worked. He'd delivered enough people to their final destination. It wasn't supposed to be like this; the stale smoke hanging in the air, a slightly dull atmosphere as one of the lightbulbs flickered overhead, a TV in the corner showing some boring satellite import or another and a pub full of unfamiliar faces. Or _almost_ all unfamiliar faces.

"_Mon Brave!"_

Nelson's traditional greeting brought Gene's attention back to the bar. He walked slowly forward, his eyes scanning from side to side, looking for anyone he recognised. Anyone at all. Hell, he'd have practically given _Malcolm_ a big sloppy kiss just out of the relief of seeing a familiar face.

"What the bleeding hell is this, Nelson?" he demanded.

"Most of us call it a pub," Nelson's smile was warm but there was an inkling of something darker behind it. He lacked a little of his usual energy. He knew that something wasn't right.

"Two hundred miles I've come for this," Gene cried.

"Worth every mile for the beer," Nelson's smile waivered a little. He reached for a pint glass. "Compliments of the house."

Gene arrived at the bar and leaned forward.

"You know what I mean, Nelson," he said, gritting his teeth a little, "as much as I've missed the quality of a home-grown pint I'm not here for the beer."

Nelson's expression changed. The warm smile fell and a serious expression crossed his features. He leaned forward, dropped his voice and looked Gene right in the eye as he addressed the Guv without the slightest trace of a Jamaican accent for the first time.

"I _know_ why you're here, Gene," he said, both his voice and the use of Gene's name causing shockwaves that almost sent Gene tumbling backwards in confusion, "don't you think if you were _supposed_ to be saying goodbye I'd have found you first?"

Gene stared at him. For several moments the unthinkable happened. Gene Hunt was struck speechless. He found his lips incredibly dry suddenly and no attempt to moisten them was working. He swallowed and looked Nelson in the eye. He had never seen a look that was so deadly serious on his face. He drew back just a little as he tried to work out how to respond.

"You don't make the rules, Nelson," he began stiffly, "neither do I. We just follow them the best we can. But sometimes we hit a grey area, and I'm not talking about getting a bit of silver in me hair. Time's up for me. I'm tired."

"You call it for all those men and women that you bring to my door," Nelson told him, "but someone else needs to call it for you. You can't judge your own time."

"No," Gene let out a hefty sigh, "_Bolly_ judged my time." He looked seriously at Nelson. "Alex… she woke up. Got better. Buggered off to another century." He coughed a little, glancing around. What the hell was the _matter_ with him? The smoke was starting to get to him. _Oh great,_ as though this wasn't awkward enough now he was becoming the thing he hated most on the world – an ex-smoker who couldn't stand to be around _smoke._ He shook his head and tried to get back on track. "Did me best, but me heart's not in it." He looked at him grimly. "When was the last time I brought someone to yer door, Nelson? When was the last time I did me duty? I've lost it. I just don't care any more. I can't do the job when I don't want to be there."

"There's more to life than work," Nelson told him, slipping back into his accent. He walked to the pump and started to pull a pint, "maybe you've got another reason to stay around."

"Me reason for staying around is in two thousand and bollocks," Gene told him.

"You've got more than one person who cares about you."

Gene took the foaming glass from Nelson.

"Well _I_ don't count," he mumbled.

"No, you don't," Nelson agreed, "because you don't care _enough_ abut yourself."

Gene looked down and shook his head. He didn't need this.

"Listen," he began, "I've 'ad a long day. A long drive. Now all I want is to take me drink, get a prime table in that saloon bar of yours and work me way through all those drinks stacked up for me on the bar."

Nelson's expression was unlike Gene had ever seen it. It was… _sad_. Disappointed? Maybe. He stepped back and swept his hand in the direction of a doorway.

"If that's what you want," he said.

Gene took a gulp of foamy lager and stared at Nelson.

"What's that tone for?" he demanded.

"What tone?" Nelson asked innocently.

"That '_on your head be it'_ tone," scowled Gene, "like I'm going to live to regret it. You got a bucket o'frogs propped over the door? Can't be April fool's day yet."

"The choice is yours, Mon Brave," Nelson told him. He stood and waited, watching for Gene's reaction. Gene didn't know what else Nelson expected him to do. He stood up, clutched his pint and walked towards the doorway. He laid his hand against the solid wooden door and took a deep breath. This was surely it. This time he'd get the glow, the energy and the welcome to the afterlife that he was expecting. He was certain of that. No way around it.

He pushed the door and a dark and empty bar beyond it greeted him, with one man polishing a glass at the far end.

"You never _did_ know what was good for you, did you Gene?"

Gene closed his eyes.

"Bugger," he groaned, "Sam _bloody_ Tyler. That's all I need."

At least the look on Sam's face was a little softer, a touch less severe than Nelson's had been. Sam placed the glass on the bar.

"Whiskey chaser to go with that?" he indicated Gene's pint.

Gene wasn't exactly sure what was going on.

"Could do with a long, cold glass of explanation first," he said, watching Sam pour a glass anyway. He reluctantly took a seat at the empty bar. "First of all, why's Nelson got you doing his dirty dishes?

"I do a bit of bar work from time to time," Sam explained, "Nelson's a busy man. _You_ try running a pub _and_ the afterlife and see if you need a bit of help once in a while."

"Exactly what does this particular kind of _bar work_ entail?" Gene demanded.

Sam pulled a face.

"Serving customers. Pouring drinks." He paused. "Keeping an eye on the Gene Hunts of the world."

"You wouldn't want to keep an eye on me," Gene mumbled into his pint, "I'd scare you away with the state of me underwear."

Sam looked at him seriously.

"I'm sorry," he said, "about Alex."

Gene found himself freezing, mid-mouthful. He sat there, stock-still for a few moments. It took three attempts to swallow his gulp of pint before he finally returned his glass to the bar.

"Well," he began coldly, "you _did_ warn me, I suppose. Long time to be in limbo."

Sam recalled his words to Gene when the Railway Arms had 'broken' some months previously.

"I wasn't trying to preach," Sam said seriously, "Living half a life isn't easy."

"That's the problem, Sam," Gene finally looked up again, "she wasn't living half a life. She was living _two_ lives." He shook his head and exhaled loudly. "She became real here. Like having two bodies, years apart. Would have been OK if I hadn't –" he hesitated, trying to think of a suitable term, "_stopped supporting the rising price of rubber shares."_

Sam nodded slowly. He was aware of everything Gene had lost when Alex woke in her old time.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Now, before you start giving me the hard sell," Gene began, "I've already had that from yer boss at the front of house, alright? This isn't some overnight decision I made on the back of a few too many shandies. I've been living without Bolly for months and it's not working without her. I'm not doing me job. Me heart's gone out of it." He looked a Sam seriously. "Listen Tyler, _you_ knew when it was time to get away. You came to me for help, if you remember." He noticed a flicker of sadness in Sam's eye. "Well now it's my turn. I've reached the end of the road. Now it's time for me to catch up with all those drinks people have been getting in for me for the last few decades." He paused. "Before they evaporate and I have to add me own water to a pile of beer scum."

"I don't think _beer scum_ is a thing that exists," Sam said.

"You smirking at me, Tyler?" Gene demanded.

"No, Guv," Sam had to admit he'd missed winding Gene up.

Gene took a cooling gulp of his pint, wiped his lip on his sleeve and looked back at Sam.

"So," he said, "where's my ticket to heaven?" he paused, waiting for Sam to say something but he seemed distracted, glancing up at the door instead. "Come on, Tyler, I've seen it enough times. I know how this works. Where's me glowing air and me heavenly haze?"

"You're not really the _heavenly haze_ type," Sam frowned, "are you?"

"I know where I bring me men and this isn't it," Gene told him, "no punters, no Bowie, no mysterious glow in the air." He paused, "so what do I have to do? Do I need to get me hand stamped? Put me name on the VIP list?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply but hesitated as he heard a commotion outside. He closed his eyes for a moment and a smile of relief came over his face. Just as Gene was about to threaten him with a pub-related version of the filing cabinet technique to get him back for what he took to be a sarcastic grin, Sam finally answered Gene's question.

"Sometimes the doors just aren't open," he said.

"The bloody doors are open, Nelson's just got a crock team o' staff!" cried Gene.

Sam shook his head.

"No he hasn't," he said, "and neither have you."

His eyes fixed on the doorway, and after a moment – with a frown – Gene turned around to peer at it too.

~X~

Simon had already tripped over the step, one table and two bar stools as he raced towards the bar. Panting so hard that he could barely force out a word, he collapsed against the bar while drawing in deep and heavy breaths before he gasped at Nelson;

_"Gene_…. Is he…. Am I… too late?"

"Nick of time, my friend," Nelson's face lit up with a smile, "nick of time."

Simon tried to pull himself upright, his eyes scanning the room the whole time.

"I can't see him," he fretted, "where is he? Is he in the toilet?"

Nelson shook his head.

"He's having a quiet word with my barman," he explained, "out the back, in the saloon bar." He nodded towards the doorway.

"Right," Simon nodded, gulping down air, "thanks."

He took off again, running towards the door and sending patrons and beer in all directions.

~X~

The moment the door flew open and an exhausted, flustered Simon fell through Sam stood up straight and tossed his bar towel onto the beer pump in front of him.

"About time too," he said, his eyes focusing on the mess of a Simon scrambling towards them, "what kept you?"

Simon froze, his lungs grabbing for air. His eyes were wide and troubled and his expression fraught and frantic.

"What… what _kept_ me?" he cried, "I… what the _hell_ do you mean what kept me? I've travelled two hundred miles to a city I've never been to, been on a tour of police stations in Manchester that's probably left me on the most wanted list and ruined two of your best bar stools in my hurry to get here before it was too late!"

Sam tried not to smile. He nodded to Gene, then to Simon.

"You need to talk," he said, "before anyone makes any decisions today." He poured a measure of scotch for Simon before he left them alone, disappearing out the back with a buzz, a glow and the sound of chatter accompanied by the strains of David Bowie. Gene half-turned to Simon but couldn't meet his eye, partly through shame and partly through anger.

"You had no right to go following me round half the country," he said bluntly.

Simon was still trying to catch his breath. He climbed wearily onto a bar stool, breathing in deeply, and looked at Gene.

"You lied to me, Gene," he said quietly, his voice low through exhaustion, "you said you'd give things one more go."

"I did and they weren't working out," Gene said bluntly, staring at the foam on his pint.

"I told you to _talk_ to me," Simon said, a little more crossly, "I told you not to make any rash decisions."

"And I told you I'd been thinking about it for a long time," Gene corrected, "I don't have to tell you _everything_, you're not me mum." He finally gave Simon a sideways glance. "How did you know where to find me anyway?"

Simon lifted his glass, thankful that Sam had poured him a decent measure. He was going to need it. He took a gulp and flinched a little as the harshliquid stung his throat. It wasn't quite up to the standard of the booze Gene usually brought to the flat.

"I found your resignation letter," he told Gene, "which is more than Fletcher did, so you've still got a job to go back to."

Gene sipped his pint, trying not to look at Simon.

"Who says I want to go back?" he asked immaturely.

Simon slipped one hand into his pocket and closed it around the small piece of paper that he'd been carrying safely since Fenchurch. He slipped it out carefully, flattened it a little and placed it on the bar in front of Gene.

"This might," he said quietly.


	83. Chapter 43, 2012: No Name

_**A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely feedback and comments on the last chapter (that I was FINALLY able to convince FFnet to post properly this morning!) I really appreciate them – it was one of the chapters I'd been most looking forward to writing from the start of the story and I'm really glad it came across right. Your continued support and enjoyment of this story is greatly appreciated :) **_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 43: 2012**

Alex clutched the bouquet of flowers in the back of the car. She suspected she might have gone slightly overboard with them. They were so big that Robin had complained more than once that she was blocking the rear view mirror with them but she assumed he was joking. At least, there hadn't been a car accident so she wasn't all that bothered even if he wasn't. Her problem had been not knowing which ones to get. It wasn't as though Gene was the flower-appreciating type. If you asked him what kind of flowers he liked best he'd usually say 'cheap ones'. Gene was far more likely to gift Alex a large latte than a bunch of flowers, but that was fine. Alex wasn't really the flower type either and she knew that every latte came with love rather than with a grudge and a sneeze which flowers would usually be presented with.

Never the less, it made her unsure what kind to choose so in the end she had chosen a few of everything in a custom bunch that looked to have exhausted the florist by the end of it. She was sure she heard the woman say she needed to go and have a little lie down afterwards.

"We're here," Robin said quietly, looking at the sign above the small opening between buildings into a narrow garden.

Alex's heart sank. It wasn't exactly spectacular.

"Gene deserves better than this," she said quietly.

"I don't think there's much we can do about that," Robin said quietly, "his ashes were scattered some time ago,"

Alex nodded as she stared out of the window.

"I know," she sighed sadly. The most she could hope for was to somehow get Gene's identity confirmed so that he could have some official recognition; a plaque, a stone, just his name somewhere. Somewhere officially, that is. She wasn't going to buy a can of spray paint and graffiti 'RIP Gene Hunt' across the wall.

She opened the car door and stepped out carefully, trying not to knock any of the flowers on the way while Robin glanced at Kim in the passenger seat, her eyes closed and her mouth lolling slightly open.

"Kim," he said quietly. She didn't respond so he gave her a gentle nudge and she jumped a little. "Sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't mean to make you jump."

"Shit," Kim blinked and looked around, "Fell asleep." She groaned internally. She hated little more than falling asleep in the day. She couldn't help feeling like it was a sign of weakness and had always been angry with herself for doing so.

"It's OK, it's Ok," Robin said quietly, "it's been a long day."

Kim glanced out of the window.

"Are we there?" she asked.

Robin nodded.

"Come on," he said quietly, "let's go and pay our respects."

"Doesn't Alex want some time alone?" asked Kim.

"She didn't say that she did this time," said Robin, "we'll walk in with her and make sure everything's OK at least."

"Alright," said Kim.

They both opened their respective doors and climbed awkwardly out of the car. Both were feeling stiff and achy after so much of the day sent in a compressed space. Darkness had fallen now and the little garden was lit only by street lighting from outside and two small lamps at the far end. It felt a little creepy if they were honest and not at all peaceful or welcoming.

Kim rubbed her arms a little as the cold wind started to bite harder. She felt grateful for the arm Robin extended around her shoulders and they moved closer together to fight the chilly air. Following on close to Alex, they all took in the surroundings. The garden was narrow, if fairly long. Placed between two buildings, it looked like a serious afterthought, as though a patch of land had been left by mistake and at a loss for anything to do with it someone had decided to turn it into a small garden.

_Garden _was almost a misnomer since there was little grass, few flower beds and a large amount of concrete. There were a few attractive, ornate benches lining the garden though, each bearing a plaque as a memorial for someone. It seemed so cold and unfeeling to Alex as she looked from side to side. Maybe it seemed worse being winter. Some of the flowerbeds were bare, awaiting the spring to launch their colourful blooms into the world, while in others there were severely-trimmed shrubs that held little personality.

Alex came to a halt at one bench which she leaned towards for a closer look. The small metal plaque on the back of the bench was difficult to read in the dim light but she could make out a few, most important words.

"_In memory of the Un-Named PC,"_ it said, _"Farringfield Green"._

"Is that all you get, Gene?" she whispered as she stared. She could sense the presence of Kim and Robin behind her and glanced around. "This is it," she said quietly, "this is all that Gene has to mark his life."

Robin and Kim felt their hearts sinking. They both wished that there was more they could do. It felt as though everything led to another brick wall.

"I'm sorry," Robin said quietly.

"We'll find a way to change things," Kim said gently.

Alex let out her breath slowly as she knelt beside the bench and laid the flowers on the ground beneath it. She wasn't really sure where else to leave them and she thought by tucking them under they would at least be safe from thieves and vandals overnight. She closed her eyes as she tried to comprehend what it meant; around her the ashes formed from the body that she had uncovered on Farringfield Green were a part of the surroundings. They had mixed with the soil in the flowerbeds, helped to keep watch over the flowers that grew through the warmer months of the year. No more shallow grave for PC Hunt, but no name either.

Robin felt Kim leaning against him quite heavily and looked at her with some concern. Her expression seemed pained and her features drawn and tired.

"Kim," he said quietly, "what's the matter?"

Kim looked up a little guiltily. She hadn't been aware she was leaning quite so much.

"Nothing, she said quietly.

"You've been off all day," Robin said, helping to straighten her up, "I think we need to call this a night and find somewhere to stay."

"That's got to be Alex's call," Kim said quietly but Robin shook his head.

"She could do with resting too," he said. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Alex's shoulder to get her attention. "Alex."

"Hmm?" she glanced around.

"It's getting late and we're all exhausted," he began, "I think we need to look at finding a place to stay for the night." He nodded towards the exit. "I'm going to take Kim back to the car and start calling hotels. Take your time here."

Alex nodded and gave a slightly crooked smile. Although she wished she had been able to achieve more for one day the long journey and multiple toilet stops had cut into their available time in Manchester and the day was nearing an end. There were other destinations that would wait for tomorrow, and she had research to do overnight.

"Alright," she said quietly, "I won't be long."

Robin smiled back and tightened his arm around Kim.

"Come on," he said quietly as he began to lead her back to the car.

Alex turned to the bench again; the small plaque seemed so insignificant, such an unfair way to mark the life of a man who died far too soon. Her fingers traced around the outside of the cold metal and she felt a tear starting to escape from the corner of her eye.

"I'm sorry, Gene," she said quietly, "I know. This is so unfair. You need your name here." She paused. _"I_ need your name here."

She fell silent as she knelt by the bench. Swe couldn't help but feel deflated. Somehow she had been deluding herself into thinking they were going to arrive in Manchester and magically everything would just fall into place. She thought she would be home by evening. She had managed to block out from her mind several facts, such as the length of the journey, the time they'd arrive, the fact that they'd only have a few hours before the city would give in to the night and close its doors to further progress on her mission – not to mention the fact that she still didn't know how she would eventually get home.

At least she knew they had made some progress. They had a possible branch on the family tree, they had some of his original papers and she had been able to lay flowers for Gene, even though his name was conspicuous by its absence from the garden. She needed to remember that they were making steps towards their goal, even if they were not as big as she'd been hoping.

"_Goodnight, Gene,"_ she said quietly as she got to her feet and began to walk slowly back to the car. It had been a long and exhausting day. The next wouldn't be much different. Some food, a good night's sleep and some thorough research would all help her to face what was still to come.

~xXx~

Robin was just hanging up the phone as Alex climbed in the back of the car.

"Found a hotel," he said quietly, "not exactly five star but it looks nice enough. Booked two rooms overnight. Breakfast is included and there's a restaurant so we can eat tonight."

"Thanks, Robin," Alex said tiredly as she sat back in the car. She gave a deep sigh. "I might just take some food back to my room. There's some research I want to do. We did brig the laptop, didn't we?"

"Forever prepared," Kim said tiredly with a smile from the front passenger seat.

Robin started the engine and prepared to drive them to the hotel for the night. It had been a trying day on many levels and they all knew that things weren't going to be much easier when the morning arrived but with each step Alex took she felt herself coming a little closer to home. She just hoped that somehow Gene could feel that too.


	84. Chapter 43, 1997: His Nose

**Chapter 43: 1997**

Gene felt his mouth grow very dry, very quickly. He stared at the picture, lifted it a little closer to his face and swallowed.

"Would you mind telling me," he began awkwardly, "what I'm looking at here."

Simon hesitated. He could see Gene knew full well what he was looking at.

"I think," he began quietly, "that you're looking at another time-travelling _artefact_ from two thousand and bollocks." He paused. "Or, as the date will pinpoint for you, two thousand and eleven."

Gene reached for his scotch and found, to his horror, that his hand was shaking. He sipped it quickly before Simon could see and placed the glass back down again.

"Where did you get this?" he asked dryly, doing his best to keep emotion out of his voice.

"It was under the tree when I dismantled it," Simon said quietly, "I have no idea how long it's been there."

Gene stared at the picture again. The more he tried to make sense of it, the less he understood.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to get from this," he said, his voice shaking.

"The fact that Alex is still pregnant," Simon tried to press the point.

"Bolly is having a baby," Gene's voice was growing more strained with every word.

"_Your_ baby," Simon reminded him.

"That's impossible," Gene laid down the picture and turned his attention to the alcohol before him, "she'd have been pregnant for the last fourteen years according to this."

"Gene, I don't know how it's possible either," Simon shook his head, "but look at the evidence. She was pregnant when she vanished from here. She woke up in her old body and suddenly there's a scan from two thousand and eleven – somehow the baby went with her."

Gene looked at Simon finally. His eyes looked empty and glassy. Their bright blue hue was fading and a dull grey replacing it.

"So now not only is me better half in a different world to me but me sprog is too?" he said, "what part of that is supposed to make me want to stay?"

"You thought you'd lost the baby for good," Simon reminded him, "you thought it just… disappeared. _Ceased to be_ when Alex faded away. Well, it hasn't." he lifted the scan and placed it closer to Gene's face. "_Look_ at it, Gene, for god's sake – it's real. Your baby is still out there, and if I know anything about Alex I know she's doing everything she bloody well can to get back here to you."

"It's been months, Simon."

"Oh come on, we _both_ know how weird time is for us," Simon told him crossly, "we never know how things match up. A year can pass here and it's been days on the other side. Or we can both roll along day by day at the same pace. Just because it's been months for you doesn't mean it has for _Alex_. She could have woken up a week ago. Could have woken up _yesterday_. Maybe it's been a month or two and she's been trying to recover. _Fuck_, Gene, we don't know how long she was comatose for this time but I'll bet her recovery will take weeks, maybe months even to get to the point where she can even _start_ to do anything towards working out how to get back here."

"Even if that's true," Gene began darkly, "there's no way to get back that's not going to lead her right to Jimbo's basement."

"That's not true," Simon told him, "she got back before, remember?"

"She 'ad a body to come back to last time."

"You didn't see the tape, Gene. I saw what she had to do to get back before… the determination on her face. She found her way back before and she'll do it again."

Gene tried not to look at the scan but he fund his eyes drawn back to it again and again. He hated to admit how much it was affecting him; how much his heart was racing from the shock of seeing the black and white image and knowing his baby was still there, albeit so far away. Eventually he couldn't stop himself from picking it up again and staring at the profile of the baby.

"Poor bugger's got my nose," he commented quietly. It felt strange looking at a picture of a much bigger baby when he remembered how small the blob on the screen was at Alex's last scan. His eyes turned to Simon. "This isn't bloody possible, you know," he said.

"Supposedly," said Simon, "but Alex's situation was different. _You_ said so. _Fletcher_ said so. She was one of a kind; real in _both_ places."

"Still don't know how this could even happen."

"Well you're asking the wrong person if you want me to tell you," said Simon, "if _you've_ no idea then _I_ certainly don't!"

Gene laid the picture back down and nodded slowly. He knew Simon was right. If he himself had no explanation after all his years in that world then what chance did anyone else have of providing one? He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to work out how he was supposed to be feeling. He didn't even like to admit he _had_ emotions, let alone that they were so mixed up.

He felt so frustrated and angry that his flesh and blood was so far away from him; that Alex was going through the pregnancy alone and in a place he couldn't even reach out and touch. At the same time he felt such a sense of relief and indescribable elation that his baby was still there, that it was strong enough to somehow make it to a place where it never should have been able to go. He started to feel that same sense of pride swelling inside him that he felt when they first discovered the pregnancy; that male pride that not _only_ were his swimmers strong little buggers on the first place but now they'd made a baby that had done the impossible. He looked at Simon.

"And if she doesn't make it back?" he asked.

"What?"

"Bolly," Gene continued, "if she can't find her way back. _Then_ what happens? Me kid grows up fourteen years in the future. No father. And I'm stuck 'ere knowing there's nothing I can do."

"Have faith in her, Gene," Simon said quietly, "Alex will find a way." He watched Gene's expression carefully. It was troubled, laden and contemplative. He couldn't imagine how confused he must have been feeling right then, but he had to make the right decisions, as mixed up as the situation was. "You've _got_ to come back, Gene," he said quietly, "You at least have to give Alex a chance. Imagine if she gets back and finds you've buggered off to the pub. How's she going to feel?"

Gene exhaled loudly with a depressed sigh.

"I can't keep waiting for something I don't think is going to happen," he said.

"So what's the alternative?" Simon gave an angry shrug, "you come here and spend your time as miserable as anything in the Railway Arms?"

"It's supposed to be heaven, maybe I'll cheer up a bit," Gene said half-heartedly.

"Bollocks you will," Simon told him, "you know you wouldn't be happy here unless Alex crossed over with you." he closed his eyes as he tried to get his thoughts straight. "Remember when I came back here? Susannah and Malcolm had been with you ten years, Gene. Even _I_ know that's a no-no. They should have moved on by then, but they didn't because they _both_ had to be ready. They were a pair, you said it yourself. There's no difference here. You can't move on without Alex by your side."

"If Alex was by my side I wouldn't have any _need_ to move on," Gene mumbled.

"Why do you think Nelson didn't just send you through to the afterlife?" Simon asked, "why was he waiting for me to get here and talk you out of it? Why was Sam Tyler lurking around in an empty bar, telling me off for _cutting it fine?"_ he frowned, "which, incidentally, I am _not_ very happy with." He looked at Gene seriously, "and how did they both know I was going to arrive to talk you out of it?"

Gene shrugged.

"Psychic?" he asked sarcastically, "got a crystal ball behind the bar."

"If you were meant to be going anywhere I doubt you'd have had to travel two hundred miles for it," Simon told him seriously, "you'd have stepped out the door and found a pub parked outside." He waited for Gene to respond but he'd fallen very quiet suddenly. There were no sharp comebacks to that comment, just a serious expression as he thought it over. "You still have work to do, Gene. That's with or without Alex."

"I'm not _doing _me work though," Gene told him, "Got no stomach for it any more."

"How many times have you thrown me against the filing cabinet and told me to sort myself out?" Simon reminded him, "you knew I wasn't doing my job and you told me so. I know I've messed up big-time with Vickery... he spends all day, _every_ day hiding in the toilets… but I'm trying to do a good job with Eddie, because I want to –" he stopped talking abruptly and flinched a little. He couldn't think of a way to phrase it that wasn't going to sound corny or trite.

"To what?" Gene looked at him, "practice the filing cabinet technique?"

_"No!"_ Simon cried. He shook his head. "Because I want to do a good job. To prove to _you_ that I can do a good job. I want to do this as well as you and Alex do. I want you to be proud of me."

"I'm not yer chemistry teacher, Simon."

"Fenchurch East needs you," Simon said quietly, "you walk out and what happens? _I _can't take over, I'm just learning. And I'm trying to do better but the place will just fall apart with me at the helm."

"They'll send in another DCI."

"Who doesn't give two shits about his men," Simon pointed out, "you _know_ we're different. It might be where Keats draws his energy but it's also what makes us so successful. We actually care."

"I used to."

"Don't bother trying to lie about that one, Gene, I can see straight through that." He watched Gene's expression carefully. Even though he just kept on arguing he was starting to lack the determination and the grit he'd had when Simon had first arrived. He was still a way from convincing Gene to stay but he was sure he'd at least made him think again. "The station needs you. _Alex_ needs you. And _I_ need you to stop me from buggering everything up."

"You're doing fine, Simon," Gene said quietly.

Simon hesitated.

"Alright," he began quietly, "I'll make a deal with you." he saw Gene turn his head slightly to see him. "Give me one night to change your mind. We'll get out of here. Have a proper drink somewhere and talk. Go over everything." He lifted the picture, "_Including_ this." He saw Gene's eyes fall to the scan and his whole expression softened slightly, "find a couple of hotel rooms for the night. Sleep on it and think things over properly, on neutral ground. If tomorrow you still feel the same way, I won't try to stop you."

Gene turned to look Simon in the eye. He considered his words very carefully. Simon thought the silence was going to go on forever but finally Gene nodded.

"Alright," he said quietly.

Simon hesitated, thinking for all the world he must have been hearing things.

"Alright?"

Gene nodded again.

"You've got one night to talk me out of it. But I'm making no promises."

Relief flooded through Simon's veins.

"That's all I'm asking," he said, "just give me a proper chance. We'll talk everything through. Alex, the baby, the station, _everything_." He started to get to his feet. "We'll find a hotel or a B and B, then we'll get some proper drinks in."

Gene frowned.

"We're going nowhere yet, Shoebury." He said.

Simon hesitated.

"Why not?"

"I might be bloody miserable but I'm not stupid." Gene lifted his pint in one hand and his scotch in the other. "You don't waste a free drink, Simon. Let alone _two_."

Simon nodded. He'd give him that one. As long as he had one more chance to talk him out of making the biggest mistake of his life then he had what he'd come for. Besides, he had a bone to pick with Gene too. Papers and a tape that he'd left in his car came to mind.

But there would be time enough for that later. For now, lifting his glass, Simon had to agree with Gene's philosophy on free drinks.


	85. Chapter 44, 2012: Chicken Sneaker

_**A/N: Just a quick note to say I hope everyone has a lovely and peaceful Easter weekend :)**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 44: 2012**

"Closest thing I'm going to get to room service," Alex mumbled to herself as she unlocked her hotel room door, peered around to make sure no one had seen her, rushed into her room and finally removed her coat from the two plates she'd managed to smuggle up to her room. She wasn't quite sure how she'd gotten away with it. Initially the plan had been to get some snacks or a take-away but she had caught a glimpse of someone's exquisite-looking chicken dish while she was supposed to be saying goodbye to Kim and Robin at the restaurant and couldn't think about anything else.

A complicated plan had ensued which involved feigning a sudden illness, sneaking out plates under clothing and working out how she was ever going to get the stains out of her coat afterwards. She knew it would have been easier just to eat in the restaurant but she had a lot of work to do. And besides, where would the challenge have been in that?

It had been a very long and tiring day. She felt exhausted both mentally and physically and her emotions were running riot. Visiting the memorial garden had been such a bittersweet experience. She knew that the next leg of the mission was going to be just as emotional the following day.

She had packed very little, expecting to be back home with Gene by now, but she had enough with her to see her through the night. The first thing she did was to slip off her shoes and let her toes breathe, then she climbed wearily onto the bed and laid out her food. The smell of the chicken was driving her crazy. Before she could begin to tuck in she had to sort out the laptop which she'd brought up to her room upon their arrival. Despite Robin and Kim making a slew of rude jokes about dongles the hotel had Wi-Fi so Alex knew she was pretty much ready to go.

She switched on the laptop, sat back as it began to warm up and reached for the pile of papers Robin had procured. Some long-lost aunt or great-aunt or goodness knows what wasn't exactly a startling connection but at least she had something to build on. Tracing the family line would be a start.

The photograph of a young Gene caught her eye and hit her right in the heart. She flinched as she remembered the scarred copper she used to see when she was on the trail for the truth. Even without the mark against his head she couldn't remove it from her mind.

She laid down the picture as the laptop played its happy little tune to let her know it was ready and waiting for her to behind, With a fork in one hand and a keyboard beneath the other she began the noble art of searching and eating at the same time. She wasn't intending to spend more than one more day in 2012 – and if this was how she spent her final evening then at least she had an unusual one to remember.

~xXx~

"You didn't need to have that third plate of beans," Kim told Robin as she threw her coat on a chair in the corner of the room.

"I _did,"_ Robin protested, "they were buy two, get one free!"

"Yes, buy two _meals_ and get a third three, not buy three plates of beans and get one of them free!"

"It still counted under the deal," Robin told her.

"Heaven help your stomach in the morning," Kim said warily. She sank onto the side of the bed and took a good look around for the first time. They had only been up to their room briefly to drop off their bags before heading for some sustenance and hadn't had the time to check out the amenities. Her eyes fell upon a coffeemaker with a selection of sachets for different drinks. "Oh _cool!_ Look!"

"_Oh!"_ Robin bounced over to it like an excitable child, "Oh look, this is awesome, we can make all our own drinks and stuff."

"_Whenever_ we want," Kim added, both forgetting the fact that they got to do that all the time at home.

"There's biscuits and flapjacks too!" Robin added excitedly.

"Have we got any freebies in the bathroom?" Kim asked.

Not needing further prompting, Robin quickly dashed into the bathroom for a look. There was a click as the light went on, then a pause.

"_Not much,"_ he said_, "soap and shampoo."_

"We've got newspapers out here," Kim called to him, spotting a couple beside the tiny TV in the corner.

Robin returned, hyped up by the freebies.

"Have we got a sewing kit?" he asked.

"I don't think so," said Kim.

Robin sighed.

"Oh well," he said, "that's the kind of thing they only get given in hotels on TV shows anyway."

"Is it?" Kim asked. She looked genuinely disappointed. "Bollocks."

"You don't sew anything anyway," Robin pointed out.

"If you'd seen me sew you'd know why."

"I have and I do," Robin smiled which made Kim laugh. She loved the way that they could be stupid together. She loved the way they could insult each other like crazy and never be offended. She loved the way they could be like excitable children, regardless of age; the fact that they could be awestruck by things like mixed sachets of coffee and free soap. She tried to remember ever sharing moments like this with Linda and as much as it hurt to admit it she realised they never had.

As she began to undress for bed her mind ran over how far she and Robin had come since their early, nervous days. They'd gone from being terrified of admitting the way they were feeling to sharing a close and serious relationship. Watching everything that Alex was going through to be reunited with Gene had made Kim think seriously about her own relationship. She was weeks away from her divorce being finalised, and she couldn't shake thoughts of the future. Her mind travelled into daunting territory, the depth of her feelings for Robin still scared her sometimes. She still found it difficult to shake the fears that ultimately the history Robin shared with Simon would outweigh the short time that they had shared together in comparison. While she tried to focus on the here and now she knew that their unique situation in connection with a different world left them vulnerable to being separated too.

She tried to push her fears aside as they both climbed into bed, showing distain for the frilly, girly duvet and hiding beneath the sheets from the cold January evening.

"Somehow I never pictured our first night in a hotel to be like this," Robin commented.

"Neither did I," Kim couldn't help but smile as she said, "but for us it's probably fitting. We were never going to do things in a normal way, were we?"

"No," Robin agreed, "booking a hotel room while on a quest to help a friend_ travel back in _time is more us than booking a hotel on some boring package holiday where we spend two weeks trying to scrape sand out of every orifice."

A few moments of silence descended, both were so tired from the day that they were barely managing to construct sentences by now, but eventually something that had been playing on Kim's mind came to the fore and she had to voice it.

"That picture you got from the station," she said quietly, "the one of Gene when he was young –"

She saw a look of sadness cross Robin's expression.

"I know," he said quietly, "I noticed it too. The resemblance."

Kim nodded slowly.

"I thought it was just me," she said quietly.

Robin shook his head.

"And you never saw Simon when he was that sort of age," he added, "if you had, you'd see it even more clearly." He swallowed and took in a deep breath. "Shit, with everything that's gone on, trying to help Alex get home, I'd managed to push the whole _genetic testing_ thing out my mind." He shook his head slowly. "It still makes no sense to me, Kim. I don't understand how it's even possible. And even if it _was_ –"

"The DNA test seems to think so," Kim reminded him.

"Even so, it feels like there's something so much bigger at work behind it. I mean, what were the chances of ever finding out? Life could have just carried on with no one being any the wiser. Simon could have gone into some other career, never gone back to the past, never met Gene. Alex could have never come back… never brought a _baby_ back with her, the hospital would never have done those tests –"

Kim nodded as she looked at Robin with concern. She understood the long odds. They bothered her too. She also knew there was another factor that was troubling Robin, far more than the connection between Simon and Gene.

"And there's the other side to it, she said quietly. She reached up to stroke his cheek gently, offering a little comfort, "I… I hate asking because I don't want to bring it up but –"

Robin knew exactly what she was talking about. He looked down for a moment, his stomach turning over as he thought about it.

"It's not like it wasn't already on my mind," he said quietly, "it always _is_. It never goes away."

Kim lifted his face so that he couldn't help but look her in the eye.

"I need to know how you're doing, Rob," she whispered, "how you're _really_ doing. I'm worried sick about you."

Robin shook his head very slowly.

"I wish I knew myself," he whispered, "it's like it's always there. Like a ten ton weight sitting on my back. Sometimes I feel like I can't…. can't _breathe_. Can't eat. Can't speak. And I don't understand why, until I realise that the feeling isn't really someone sitting on me or an elephant attached to my chest. It's knowing that he's there. Part of me."

Kim shook her head.

"He's no part of you, Rob," she whispered.

Robin closed his eyes and breathed out rapidly.

"What is all this _for_, Kim?" he whispered, "This isn't some shitty coincidence. Is there something I'm supposed to do now that I know? Is this some kind of stupid fate thing where it's all going to round and round forever?"

"What do you mean?" Kim asked quietly.

"There's Gene and Keats fighting it out back in the nineties somewhere," Robin tried to explain, "like a comic book battle of good versus evil – and then at the other end of the spectrum, me and Simon, years together…"

"There are no two closer emotions than love and hate," Kim said quietly.

Robin nodded slowly. He could see that somehow.

"There was a time I was so sure Simon and I were forever," he said quietly.

There was a long silence as Kim's eyes focused upon him, wide and surprised by a word; one word that she was scared of reading too much into. She looked at his expression. Was he regretting saying it? Or just shocked that it had slipped out?

"Was?" she whispered.

Robin didn't reply. He had enough on his mind already and this was more than he could deal with for now. Instead he moved a little closer to Kim and just held her close, trying to take away the worries, the stress and the trauma of the last few weeks. For now, that was all he was ready to acknowledge. Maybe tomorrow he'd be feeling braver.

~xXx~

With her chicken devoured and her laptop hard at work, Alex busied herself tracking down anything she could find connected with Gene, his long-lost aunt or the_ 'un-known PC'._ She had come to realise that this was the first evening she'd spent truly in her own company since she had awoken in the real world. Between spending weeks in hospital and then the last month staying with Robin and Kim she hadn't had any real 'alone time'. She felt grateful to finally have a little.

The only flaw with her evening's plans was the fact that she had no printer so anything she found of use she had to save and scribble down any details that she might want to grab at a moment's notice. I wasn't as though she needed a full IT suite in her hotel room but the lack of a printer had proven to be more frustrating than she'd realised.

The little coffee maker machine clicked off, indicating the water was hot and ready for her to finish making her bedtime drink. She selected a sachet of hot chocolate, emptied it into one of the little white cups with handles that barely fit a human finger and filled it with hot water, stirring maniacally to attempt to dissolve the powder.

"This looked a lot more fun before I tried to make anything with it," she commented, glaring at the machine. She thought about getting back to Gene and telling him tales of the strange contraption that she absolutely knew he'd have hated. He'd have stuck two fingers up at it and decided to go to Latte Land, she thought with a smile.

To one side of her a sheet of paper contained a list of scribbled facts that she'd found about the uncovered branch of Gene's family tree. Tracing the long-lost aunt through a selection of methods including a slog of heavy-going ancestral websites and statistics she had found more than she'd expected to, certainly more than it had initially sounded as though they would be able to find.

"_Catherine Cove; born 1919,"_ the start of the sheet read, _"Married Roland Finn, 1938. Died 1965. Children: 3"_

She'd gone on to list the names and birthdates of the woman's children, grandchildren, even great grand-children. She traced the history of the small jewellery shop that Catherine and Roland had started with and how it had grown. Five branches still existed including two in Manchester. She wrote down their addresses and and much other information that she felt relevant, then went on to fill up the sheet with more details about Gene and his family.

When she eventually noticed the time, she discovered that ten pm had rolled around very quickly. She looked at her list of notes. It was fairly extensive by now and full of promise. She allowed herself a smile of hope before she shut the laptop and placed it beside the bed with the paper on the top.

Snuggling down between the crisp, clean sheets she closed her eyes and felt a sense of peace washing over her. Although she may not have been home yet she was making progress. Every word she'd written out took her one step closer. A peaceful smile played on her lips and she drifted off against the pillow, hugging it beneath her head. Maybe this would be her last night sleeping alone. Tomorrow held so much promise and she would be wishing away the hours until dawn.


	86. Chapter 44, 1997: Shared Genes

**Chapter 44: 1997**

Simon watched as Gene drained the last of his pint and placed the glass back on the bar with a sigh.

"Can we go now?" he asked, sounding like a child who'd grown bored on a family excursion.

"What _is_ your hurry?" Gene demanded "I told you I'd give you one night to change me mind, I'm not going to run off out the back."

"I know, I just want to get out of here, that's all," said Simon, "before Sam Tyler criticises my timekeeping again."

"You're feeling threatened by Sam bloody Tyler?" Gene asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Not… _threatened_," Simon frowned, "he just freaks me out a bit."

"Just because he wears a leather jacket better than you can," Gene said as he got to his feet.

"No, he…" Simon shook his head, "nothing, doesn't matter." He didn't want to get into a conversation about the first time he'd met Sam, thanks to a broken _Railway Arms_ while Nelson was sightseeing. Sam had given Simon some strange advice that he'd never been able to understand, calling him the bridge between two worlds and telling him his position was unique. Those words still haunted him. He still couldn't work out what it was supposed to mean and he didn't want to get into another deep and meaningful conversation that was going to leave him feeling baffled and frustrated.

"Bloody hell, booze is stronger in the afterlife," Gene mumbled, swaying a little as he got to his feet.

Simon turned around and noticed for the first time some of Nelson's collection of London memorabilia pinned to the wall.

"Oh bloody hell," he sighed, "look."

Gene glanced up and shook his head.

"They really saw him coming, didn't they?" he said, "There's a reason Nelson's usually too busy to be set free to go sightseeing, you know"

Simon walked to the door and held it open, making sure that Gene passed through before leaving himself. They stepped back into The Railway Arms' normal, everyday pub, and a relieved looking Nelson watched them as they moved towards the exit.

"So you've decided not to stay around, Mon Brave?" he asked.

Gene glanced back over his shoulder.

"Don't count yer chickens yet," he warned, "if this one doesn't pull a rabbit out the hat by the end of the day I'll be back tomorrow."

He followed Simon out of the pub, blinking a little as the harsh streetlights took some getting used to after the dull atmosphere in the pub.

"Bloody heavenly booze, gone right to my head," he mumbled.

Simon glanced at Gene, surprised to see him weaving slightly.

"Well I bet you haven't had anything to eat, have you?" he said accusingly.

"Thought I was going to be feasting on free bar snacks all night," Gene told him.

Simon rubbed his head and scanned the area around them.

"I think I passed a bed and breakfast on the way here," he said, "it's only a short way. We'll walk. Sober you up."

"Thought one of the selling points of yer _one last night_ was getting a proper drink," Gene pointed out, "being sober wasn't part of the deal."

Simon groaned and rubbed his forehead. Gene bartered like a manipulative teenager.

"OK," he said, "a brief sober interlude before the alcohol. We'll see if they've got a couple of rooms, then we'll get some food and drink in and talk. Do you need anything from your car?"

"Yeah me street cred," said Gene, "you don't expect me to leave me brand new set of wheels behind, do you?"

"It'll be safer here than outside some B ad B," Simon told him, "I'm sure Nelson will keep an eye on it for you."

Gene sighed.

"Alright then," he mumbled, "just me toothbrush then."

"Why did you even bring a toothbrush?"

"Heaven's full of coopers, not dentists," Gene told him.

Simon shrugged. He couldn't rally argue with that.

"Fine," he said, "I just need to get some – _post,"_ he hesitated over his last word. He knew he'd have to ask Gene about it sooner or later, but was dreading the moment arriving. He could still hear the harsh and sarcastic tone Gene had used to address his mother and although he knew that was just Gene's way through and through he still couldn't help but feel angry about it. He needed to keep that anger under wraps for now though. He didn't think "_you yelled at my mother"_ was a good way to convince him not to leave.

~xXx~

"Surprised you trusted me on me own," Gene commented with a raised eyebrow as Simon dumped a couple of pizza boxes on the rather tasteless bedspread.

"If you're really lucky I might let you go to the shop by yourself tomorrow," Simon muttered sarcastically as he took the six-pack of lager from atop the boxes and placed it on the bedside table, then sat down and fished a large bottle of scotch from a blue and white striped bag. "There. Pizza, beer and scotch. Anything else?"

"I think you've just about got bribing the Gene Genie down to a fine art," Gene told him.

"Good," sighed Simon, "because this is all I've got left to offer." he opened one of the pizza boxes, pulled a face and pushed it towards Gene. "That's yours."

Gene took the box and started to pull his pizza apart. He eyed Simon warily as he watched the younger man opening his own box and trying to break up his pizza. Simon seemed less than happy. Gene cleared his throat.

"Look, Shoebury," he began, "I –" he paused, not exactly sure what he wanted to say. "I _do_ appreciate what you're trying to do. I know you've come a long way and…" he shook his head. "Didn't want any fuss. That's why I left quietly."

"In secret, you mean," said Simon.

"That and all."

Silence fell as they both began to eat the greasy fare before them, neither realising how hungry they'd been until they started. It might not have been five-star cuisine but it was quick, easy and junky enough to counteract a little of the stressful day they'd both just been through. It wasn't their first venture into pizza. Pizza had been their food of choice for most of the time that Gene had stayed with Simon. It was just junky enough to portray their various levels of misery and depression; the same convenience food night after night. Simon was fairly sure he was starting to resemble a pizza by now. He was waiting for the day that he would wake up with tomato sauce over his face.

When both men had consumed half their pizzas in silence, Gene finally spoke up. It surprised Simon. After falling silent he had been expecting a battle to convince Gene to open up to him but Gene had a pressing question on his mind.

"What if she makes it back but the kid doesn't?"

Simon looked up in surprise, a trail of cheese down his chin. He removed it, swallowed his mouthful and asked,

"What do you mean?"

Gene's expression was deadly serious and far darker than Simon had seen it earlier that afternoon.

"What happens," he began, "if Bolly finds a way back but the kid can't make another journey through yer bloody space-time continuum? What if she somehow gets here and the baby disappears? Or what if she has the baby in two thousand a bollocks? Comes here with no kid. Leaves a baby back 'ome for that bearded idiot to bring up, _again?"_

Simon shook his head slowly.

"I don't know, Gene," he said quietly, "what makes you think that would happen?"

"Because this is all new to me, Simon," Gene told him seriously, "bloody miracle, the blob making it one way. Don't like the chances of 'er trying to bring it back again." He reached for one of the lagers and opened it. "It would bloody kill her if that happened." he stared at the can. "And me an' all."

"I don't know," Simon shook his head again, "This is _all_ the unknown. "

"Because you were right," Gene admitted quietly, "I know Bols. She'll be trying to get back here."

Simon reached for his own beer and took a swig from his can.

"I thought you'd given up on her," he said.

"Was looking at the circumstantial evidence," said Gene. His eyes turned to the scan picture which had been lying beside him ever since Simon deposited him in the room and went out to search for pizza. "This changes everything." He closed his eyes briefly as he thought about it. "She'll be trying to find a way back. And if I know Drakey, the stubborn cow will make it, too. But at what cost, Shoebury?" he wanted to pick up the scan but didn't want to spread greasy fingerprints all over it. "Don't want to lose _this_ one."

"You just have to trust that they're both strong enough to come back together," Simon told him.

Gene sighed. He'd lost his appetite suddenly. Laying down the slice of pizza that he'd been on the verge of consuming he looked at Simon seriously.

"You asked me a long time ago if it was planned or not," he said, "I never really told you either way. Truth is, don't even know meself."

"How… can you _not_ know?" Simon frowned.

"Knew what I was _doing_," Gene admitted, "didn't give up the rubber johnnies for lent you know. Part of me… wanted this to happen. Bloody male pride, wanted to know me balls were in full working order."

Simon cringed and put down his own slice.

"Well that's the end of that pizza," he mumbled.

"Both knew what we were doing but didn't wasn't to admit it," Gene told him, "and I won't pretend me panic alarm didn't go off in me head when she told me she thought –" he trailed off, focusing on his beer for a few moments until he was ready to continue. "Then suddenly we're sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a blue line and everything's different. Felt like me chest was going to explode. Now that's pride, Simon."

Simon had never heard Gene talk like that before. He knew Gene had found it difficult to talk about the baby and fatherhood; he simply wasn't that kind of man and the idea of Alex's pregnancy had taken some adjusting to in the first place.

"Gene, I'm so sorry," he said quietly.

"I dragged me heels for too long with Alex," Gene began. Simon wasn't used to hearing him use her actual name so it caught him truly off guard. "I spent ten years expecting her to wake up at any time so I never did the things I should have. By the time I put a ring on her finger and got her in the club we'd wasted so many years. And _then_ I got complacent. Took it for granted she was always going to be here, just because she'd made that decision. But some things are just bigger than we are." He drank a lot of beer and hoped that it would take the edge off his worries, but it didn't. "So what do I do, Simon? If Bolly gets back without the sprog? How do we recover from that?"

Simon looked at him seriously. He had no words of wisdom and no words of comfort. Neither of them knew what was going to happen. But finally he drew in a deep breath.

"Then," he said quietly, "you take her to bed and you try again."

Those were not words Gene was expecting to hear from Simon. In fact, they weren't words he would have expected to hear from _anyone._ He also knew things were not that simple, and that if the worst case scenario were to happen he had no idea how he or Alex would ever get past that. But at the same time Simon's words seemed so straightforward and so obvious. He didn't want to draw comparisons to falling off a horse and getting straight back up - that would have been taken the wrong way. But he could understand what Simon was saying. He didn't really have an answer though so he drank more beer until he'd drained the can and reached for another.

"What's it like?" he asked suddenly.

Simon frowned.

"What?"

"Waking up," said Gene, "out there?"

Simon stared into his can as he tried to work out what to say. It wasn't an easy subject.

"They weren't my happiest weeks, that's for sure," he said quietly, "but then, things will be different for Alex than they were for me. I didn't know if this place was real or not. I thought I was going crazy. Alex at least has people who know. People who can look out for her."

Gene was grateful for that at least. He nodded as he opened his can.

"She'll have Stringer hovering over her with a piercing needle," he hypothesized, "she'll come back here with more rings through 'er face than you'll find on a pair of curtains."

"At least you're talking about her getting back here now," Simon commented, raising an eyebrow.

Gene almost cursed himself for that. He hadn't even realised he was doing it but his mindset was slowly changing. He eyed Simon suspiciously. Was he trying some kind of hypnosis? He wasn't wearing a spinning bowtie, at least.

"Maybe," he mumbled.

Simon moved the pizza boxes to the floor. He was fairly sure no one was going to be tucking in for the rest of the night. Conversation had turned to important matters and needed to stay that way. For the best part of two hours he let Gene talk as much as he needed to about Alex, the baby and all his reasons for moving on. He countered every argument the best he could, tried to come up with answers and solutions even for the seemingly impossible and did what he could to keep Gene's focus on the thought of Alex finding her way back, however unlikely it seemed. Eventually the beers were gone and the scotch was flowing, and Simon wanted to turn Gene's attention to another subject.

"Gene," he began, "it's not just for Alex that you need to stay. I know how much Fenchurch East means to you."

"_Meant_ to me."

"Whatever," Simon wasn't splitting hairs, "you've been through too much there to see it fall apart. And it _will_ do without you. Face it, no one else is going to do half the job you've done, and whatever you say you've _still_ been running that place better than anyone else could. It's not just what you do with the people who go there, it's the way you deal with cases. You always talk about needing to clear the scum off the street. Who's going to do that if _you_ bugger off?"

Gene took a large mouthful of scotch.

"You'll have to clean up the streets for me," he said.

Simon gave a mocking laugh.

"Gene, the only things _I_ clear are the shelves in Currys, of mutant toasters," he said. "Look, I'm not in your league and I'm not sure I ever could be. I'm from a different time. I don't have the same strength behind me. You've got more fight and bite than I'll ever have. You're needed. _London_ needs you. The _station_ needs you. If you head to the pub then there will be people like Arthur Layton throwing parties in the streets."

"Wouldn't want to go to one of his shindigs," Gene shuddered, "and I wouldn't want to know what's in the punch either."

"You know what I mean," Simon told him.

Gene shook his head, turning to his glass again.

"Simon, me heart isn't in _any_ of it any more," he said, "and maybe that's even a good thing."

"How the hell do you figure that one out?"

"Haven't you noticed how much quieter things have been?" Gene asked, "with Bolly years away and me – not feeling quite like meself," he looked a little awkward admitting that, "A certain four-eyed, fork-tailed gentleman has been taking far more of a backseat. Not so much to feed off, Shoebury. Maybe without me around Keats will bugger off to some _other_ basement." He topped up his glass, "or shrivel into a puddle. Or am I thinking of the wicked witch of the west?"

"_Quiet?"_ cried Simon, "I don't know which Jim Keats _you've_ been looking at but it's not the same one _I've_ been encountering."

"A few envelopes here and there, hardly his usual standard," said Gene.

"Maybe not for you," Simon said crossly, "but they've ripped me apart." He felt darkness overcoming his emotions, "speaking of which, I've got a bone to pick with you."

Gene wasn't expecting the sudden turn of tone from Simon. He froze momentarily, then looked at him in surprise.

"Sounds ominous," he said, "spit it out."

Simon hesitated. He flinched as he wished he'd held his tongue little longer. He hadn't expected to blurt it out like that but Gene's comment about Keats had cut too close to home. Bollocks.

"No," he said quickly, "sorry, it's alright. It'll wait. It wasn't important."

"Saying you've got a bone to pick sounds important to me," Gene narrowed his eyes. He could see Simon squirming a little, "you'd better tell me what I did. Did I mis-aim when I went to the lavvy in the night?"

"Ugh, _no!"_ cried Simon.

"So tell me."

"Really, I was speaking out of turn –"

"Shoebury, did you know wardrobes make good replacements for filing cabinets?" Gene asked nodding towards the corner of the room. He saw Simon looking both anxious and annoyed about that comment. "I suggest you tell me now what yer problem with me is. Not going to send me scuttling to the pub of that's what you think."

Simon stared at Gene. As much as he'd backtracked, the sound of Gene's angry tones making his mother cry played through his mind and before he could bite his tongue he blurted,

_"You arrested my mum."_

The resulting silence was so thick and laden that Gene could have not only cut it with a knife but put slices in the fridge for later. He stared at Simon, expecting him to start laughing but his face was deadpan and there was a terribly emotional look in his eyes. He hoped he would continue, that he would say something – _anything_ – to explain the comment he'd blurted but nothing came. Finally Gene swallowed a large mouthful of scotch, placed his glass down and said,

"I don't get your joke Shoebury."

"It's not a joke," Simon shook his head. His voice trembled just slightly, as though he was scared of exploring the conversation. "I've got all the papers. They're ones Keats lovingly wrapped up for me as early Christmas presents."

"And you think for one moment he hasn't faked them as some sort of stupid plan that seemed like a good idea when he woke at four in the morning and scribbled it on the back of scaly hand?" Gene said flatly.

"The papers are genuine," Simon said quietly.

"How can you be sure of that? This is Jim Keats we're talking about."

"Because even if he went to the bother of faking the papers then he couldn't fake this." Simon reached down under his jacket which was lying on a chair. Beneath it was the parcel containing the duplicates of many of the items he'd already been sent, with the new additions too. He took the cassette he'd listened to earlier in the car and handed it to Gene. "Recognise the handwriting?"

Gene took the tape and stared at it. The scotch floating around his veins caused the letters on the case to float around in his field of vision for a while before he was able to focus on them but once they became a little clearer he felt his stomach drop.

"Yes," he said quietly, "I do." He turned the case over and over in his hands. It was as familiar as the back of his hand; a late-seventies issue tape from Manchester. _7__th__ June 1977,_ it was labelled, _Marie Ann Shoebury_. He swallowed as his eyes returned to Simon whose expression held a mix of emotions – shock, sadness, anger. "Where did you get this?"

"Where do you think?" Simon said, coldness creeping into his voice,

Gene laid the tape on the bed but kept one hand over it. He stared at Simon. The man was expecting some kind of explanation but Gene didn't know what kind he wanted him to give.

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Simon," he began eventually, "I could apologise for putting yer mother behind bars if that's what you want me to do but then I might as well go round to the friends and family of the criminal population of Fenchurch and say sorry to them an' all. You got Nailer's mother's number? Want me to give her a call too?"

"My _mother,"_ Simon began quietly, "was the one who _didn't_ end up behind bars. She was the only one who wasn't pissed."

Gene sighed, his head starting to throb.

"Any chance of starting at the beginning?" he asked.

Simon let out his breath and tried to keep his cool. He tried not to think about the harsh words Gene used against his mother on the tape and endeavoured to stick to the facts.

"My mum was on a family hen night," he said in slow, measured tones, "and some of the other members must have got a bit," he paused, "_rowdy_. Pissing on tramps, you said."

There was an unexplainable jolt that hit Gene somewhere in the chest. It made his heart beat extra-fast for a second. He couldn't explain why but it felt like some deeply buried memory ignited without allowing him full access to it.

"Tramps?" he repeated.

Simon nodded.

"Apparently one… or more… of her relatives relieved herself on some homeless man," he said, feeling a little ashamed that any relative of his had even done such a thing, "you arrested them all. My mother was the only sober one." He found himself starting to shake as a new wave of anger came over him and, looking Gene right in the eye, he said furiously, "so after you ripped her to pieces with your words you turned her out on the street with nowhere to go while all her family were locked up in the cells overnight, and she ended up going home with some random _bastard_ for the night."

A strange feeling was hanging over Gene's head. He wasn't even sure what it was himself. There was a strange haze around his mind; years of striving to forget had left many of his Manchester-based memories buried for good but Simon's words were starting to unearth one from deep in the back of his mind.

"What are you talking about, Simon?" he asked, his vice flat and monotone.

"Told you about the marriage guidance papers that Keats _gifted_ me," Simon said through gritted teeth, "my mother had a one night stand and _that's_ when it happened."

_Bam._

"You sure about this, Shoebury?" Gene tried to keep the waver from his voice.

"I listened to the fucking tape of the counselling session, Gene," Simon could hardly keep the volume of his voice down, "Her family got in trouble, she had nowhere to go, she'd had a couple of drinks and she ended up going home with someone she didn't know and having a fucking one night _stand!"_

_Shit._

"And this man," Gene began, "the one she went home with…?"

"No fucking idea who it was," Simon said bitterly, "although according to the bloody papers I probably _should_ do. _Question over paternity of child number three,"_ he quoted and jumped to his feet suddenly as he gave a bitter laugh and started to pace up and down, the rage coming forth, "so now I've no idea who I am, I find out my mother's had a one night stand and it's all thanks to _you."_

"Listen Shoebury, I'm a cop, it's my _job_ to arrest people," Gene tried to sound tough and intimidating but his voice lacked its usual strength, "sometimes we have to pull in people to get the full picture. If she wasn't pissed enough to enjoy the local hospitality overnight, we had to let her go. If we didn't you'd be screaming down me ear right now for keeping an innocent woman locked up overnight instead."

"She told you she had nowhere to go," Simon cried, "you _knew_ that she wasn't going home until the next day and the rest of her family were sleeping it off in one of your cells. You couldn't have just given her a bed for the night? For one fucking _night?"_

Gene's brain almost split in two.

_But I did give her a bed for the night._

_Holy fucking shit._

Gene's pulse was going up with every moment that passed. One by one the memories came back to him, pricking their way into his mind like a billion little pins, prodding him, poking him in the right direction; memories of a woman, the _only_ woman… the only _time_ he had ever, _ever_ cheated on his ex-wife. The woman from out of town, caught up in her family's bad behaviour on a hen night that went wrong and a tramp who'd had an unexpected shower of the golden variety.

_Shit._

_Holy fucking shit._

_Hold it together. Just hold it together._

"Simon," Gene said quietly, "I am sorry," he cleared his throat and tried to speak a little louder, "We pull 'em in, we throw questions at them and sometimes we let 'em go. That's the job. You know that. It's _your_ job too. I was only doing mine." He watched as Simon looked down, his anger slowly starting to fade, "I didn't know her son was going to come and avenge her wrongful arrest years later, did I?" he swallowed anxiously. _God_, he needed another drink but he didn't want to reach for the glass. He was fairly sure his trembling hands would give away so much more. "If I could change things I would. But I can't. And whatever I said to her on the tape, you know it's part of me manner. I've not changed that much in the last twenty years. I doubt I ever will."

Simon looked down. He nodded slowly as he sank back onto the edge of the bed.

"I know," he said.

"And for whatever happened _after_ that, I'm sorry," he choked a little as he tried to speak, that sentence holding a far deeper and darker meaning than Simon could know, "just… just remember what I told you before. Don't let this ruin how you remember yer mother." He flinched as he added, "_or_ yer father."

Simon stared downwards. Now he'd ranted and raved he felt as though he'd come to the end of his anger and his energy. He knew deep down that Gene had been doing his job and it had been easier to lash out and blame Gene than to think about his mother getting caught up in anti-social behaviour and succumbing to a one-night stand. He stayed silent for some time, for so long that Gene actually started to wonder if Simon's brain had broken down, but finally he got unsteadily back to his feet. He just needed to get out of the room, to be alone for a couple of moments.

"I need a piss," he mumbled, "beer's gone straight through me."

Gene stared after him as he walked to the tiny bathroom attached to the bedroom. He waited until he heard the door close and lock, then he closed his eyes tightly and breathed out at volume. He rocked back and forth on the bed, trying to fight a growing sense of nausea. He could feel every part of his stomach churning and his limbs were shaking with a depth of shock that he couldn't have imagined possible.

His hand closed around the tape still beneath his hand and he slipped it into his pocket, then he swallowed and reached for his scotch which he quickly downed and filled again to the brim. As he started to work his way through another measure his brain worked overtime, arguing with itself as Simon's words played around and around in his head.

It couldn't be possible. It wasn't even worth _thinking_ about. No, this wasn't the real world, so even if he _had_ happened to be the arresting officer on this occasion – and even if he _had_ offered the good deed of a bed for the night – and even if that good deed had gone wrong when a nightcap led to two… led to three… led to bed –

He shook his head angrily. Out there in the real world it was some _other_ arresting officer. It was some _other_ one night stand. Whatever had almost caused the breakup of Simon's parents in the real world, Gene couldn't have had any part of it, because this was not the same world.

It wasn't.

_But things were different in Manchester._

_Shit,_ he cursed himself for even going there as he remembered the times that actions in his world back when he worked in Manchester seemed to influence things in the real world. He'd even told Simon as much, just over a year ago. He'd been aware that things were different back then. Things had more influence. They were more tangible. Worlds were closer together and one was able to influence the other.

_Question over paternity of child number three._

Gene closed his eyes and pressed his hands to the sides of his face. He remembered seeing photographs of Simon's father while investigating the arsonist the year before. A short, dark-haired man, he was. Looked just like Simon's sisters. But Simon –

"_You're the odd one out,"_ he mumbled quietly as he took his glass and gulped down more scotch in the hope that it might help to mask the terrible feeling of dread building in the pit of his stomach.

He heard the toilet flush and looked up guiltily as he watched Simon emerge, a little awkwardly, from the bathroom. He seemed subdued now. Abashed. He looked at Gene and began to make his apologies for his outburst, assuring him he knew that he was only doing his job and that the tape was just hard to hear but all Gene could see were his fair hair, his blue eyes and the features he'd looked at in the station every damn day for over a year but never really _seen_ before.

_And the bugger's got my bloody nose,_

Even though he knew Simon was still talking he started to shake his head, zoning out as Simon yakked away. It wasn't possible, it wasn't damn well possible. Even if he had managed to bed Mrs Shoebury and even if somehow he'd managed to get her in the club it wasn't possible for that to cross over to –

It wasn't _possible_.

There was no _precedent_ for –

His eyes moved to the scan photo still sitting beside him.

_Yes, it was possible._ Yes, there _was_ a precedent for it. Yes, it _had_ happened. But twice?

_Shit._

He just couldn't cope any longer. He could handle it. Just looking at Simon was making him feel like he needed to scream and run a million miles away.

"Look, Simon, can we continue this tomorrow?" he said quickly, "it's just, we've both had a lot to drink and I'm starting to feel meself slipping off to sleep. I think we should continue this when we've both got some black coffee and a couple of fry-ups inside us tomorrow."

Simon nodded slowly. If he was honest his ranting had worn him out so much that all he wanted to do was to lie down and go to sleep.

"Alright," he said, "I'll get my stuff and go. My room's the one on the left. If you have any thoughts about buggering off to heaven overnight, stop by and at least give me a chance to talk you out of them first. We'll finish talking about that in the morning too."

Gene found himself looking down.

"I'm not buggering off to heaven tonight," he said quietly, adding silently, _I'll be going through hell instead._

"Good," said Simon. He picked up his jacket and the rest of the post, then nodded to Gene. "Goodnight then."

Gene nodded back, unable to meet his eye.

"Night, Simon," he said quietly.

The moment that Simon left the room, Gene refilled his glass with a trembling hand and downed more scotch than he'd consumed since Alex first vanished from his world. His head was a mess and his intoxicated body soon followed suit. Within an hour he'd passed out across the bed, scotch dripping from his upturned glass in his hand and nightmares whirling around his head. Amid the fevered thoughts that plagued him while the alcohol circulated through his bloodstream all night long, one sentence was uttered in his sleep.

"_I have a son,_" he mumbled aloud.

It was a truth that he couldn't even begin to process.


	87. Chapter 45, 2012: Powerful days

**Chapter 45: 2012**

The light that crept through the window gently woke Alex from a deep sleep. She took a few moments to realise that she had completely forgotten to draw the curtains. Well, never mind, she probably needed the light to wake her up anyway. After the previous day had been so hectic and exhausting she was struggling to shake the sleep from her head as it was.

She rolled over slowly and awkwardly, holding her swollen belly for protection and support. The clean white hotel sheets felt strange and a little rough around her body. Waking in a strange place was always a little disorientating but Alex tried to adjust quickly and get her mind into gear. She knew that she would soon have to get herself together and head off for the next part of her journey back to Gene's world.

She peered at the clock. It was just gone eight a.m.. With a gentle groan she realised that she would have to get up soon if she wanted to meet Kim and Robin downstairs for breakfast before all that was left was cold scrambled egg. She pulled herself upright and her eyes turned to the laptop beside the bed with the sheet of paper still neatly placed on top. She felt a sudden racing of the heart as she remembered her research from the night before and how much she had been able to find. The thought of meeting Gene's relatives – no matter how distant – filled her with both excitement and nerves. How was she ever going to explain to them why she was even _there? _

She would figure that out along the way, she decided. For now it was time to fire up the coffeemaker and take a quick shower before breakfast.

~xXx~

Robin watched Kim anxiously as she slept. Her face was peaceful and calm now but it had been a different story in the night. He stroked her fringe away from her face gently, trying not to disturb her as his mind went back to the unexpected nightmare she'd had a few hours earlier.

That wasn't like Kim. he wasn't used to seeing her tortured face as she awoke from images and concepts that had torn her heart in two and squeezed at her soul. Her screams and her sobbing had awoken him with a start and it had taken a long time to calm her down. That worried him. It worried him so much. Kim was usually the stronger one; the one who rarely felt shaken by anything, even in real life. For a creation of her mind to disturb her so much, it must have been something deeply disturbing.

He'd tried to find out what she'd dreamed at first but it soon became clear that either she wasn't ready to put it into words yet or she simply didn't want to. Instead she'd clung to him in a way she never had before, as though he was about to vanish at any moment. All he could do was to hold her too until she finally fell back to sleep in his arms.

He'd lain awake for some time, just watching her. The experience of helping Alex to find her path home was bringing them even closer together. There were thoughts and possibilities floating around in his mind that he wasn't sure he was ready to address yet. They were sending a buzz through his body that kept making him want to jump up and pace up and down with nervous energy. It sat awkwardly with his worries for Kim and whatever dream had plagued her.

With a sigh of frustration and a couple of mumbled swear words he had to answer the call of the bathroom. It was beyond embarrassing now. Kim and Alex were genuinely treating him like a pregnant woman. He probably hadn't helped matters by pointing out his swollen ankles the previous evening and getting Kim to rub them for him. How long was this going to go on for? He knew Kim was planning to force him to the doctors once their Manchester adventure was over, whilst Alex was busy practicing her best psychology on him but neither of those avenues took away the fact that he felt like a complete and utter idiot, getting morning sickness, swollen ankles and myriad other pregnancy symptoms. Plus, he'd built up a collection of pastel coloured wool and had been trying to hide his knitting habit for the last few weeks.

Kim was aware that Robin wasn't there in bed beside her as she awoke, but tried not to think about the reasons why. If they were connected to the three plates of beans or the swollen ankles then she was better off feigning ignorance. Besides, she had more serious matters on her mind. The first thing that came into her head as she awoke was her nightmare from a few hours before. She felt ashamed and embarrassed by her reaction to the images that took over her mind. She rarely succumbed to bad dreams but this one had torn her in two.

Trying to help Alex find her way home must have been playing on her mind. That's all it was, she told herself sternly. She couldn't even place half of it. It was a collection of random images and actions; of violence, of pain, and of losing someone so precious to her. She couldn't stand to think of it any longer.

The sound of the toilet flushing and Robin's footsteps heading out of the bathroom gave her a well-timed distraction. She smiled as she saw him approaching, relieved just to have him close by.

"Oh Kim, I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked worriedly.

Kim shook her head with a slightly sheepish smile.

"No," she said. She waited for Robin to get back in bed before she said quietly, "Rob, last night –"

"How are you doing?" he asked before she could finish, "are you alright?"

"I feel like an idiot," Kim said quietly, "can we forget it happened?"

Robin bit his lip. He looked her in the eye.

"I'd feel happier of you'd tell me _what_ happened," he said quietly, "what you dreamed."

Kim looked down awkwardly and shook her head slowly.

"I can't really remember," she said quietly, "I just want to forget about it."

Robin didn't want to press the matter with her but he couldn't help feeing anxious. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her on the forehead. He wanted to ask her one more time to tell him what had bothered her so deeply in the night but decided to wait until later. He didn't want to make her feel worse.

"Alright," he said quietly, "we'll just leave it for now." He closed his eyes for a moment as he rested his forehead against hers. He breathed in deeply and just enjoyed the feeling of the warm sheets around him and Kim's body close to his. He knew that before long they were going to have to get up and ready for breakfast but just for a little while he wanted to soak up the moment. Time was precious. That was something they'd all learnt the hard way.

~xXx~

Alex finished brushing her hair and switched off the bathroom light. She'd collected up most of her belongings into a neat pile on the bed, ready to return to the car later that morning before they set off on their second day in Manchester. On top of the pile was her page of notes, which she folded and slipped into her pocket. She wanted to talk to Robin and Kim before they set off so that they would know exactly where they were heading from the start.

She found her way to the restaurant where breakfast was in full swing. The hotel seemed fairly quiet. He supposed that just after Christmas people were not in the mood for roaming far from home. She looked around the room and spotted Kim and Robin at a table somewhere close to the self-service bar. They saw her approaching and looked up at her with a smile.

"Morning, Ma'am," Kim greeted her.

Alex studied Kim's expression as she sank into a seat. Although Kim was smiling there was something that didn't seem quite right. She looked a little subdued. Perhaps she was tired? She'd seemed off colour the day before.

"Did you both sleep well?" she asked.

She noticed Robin seemed to hesitate.

"Kind of," he said.

"Oh?" Alex noticed Kim seemed uncomfortable at his response, "was everything alright?"

"It was fine," Kim said quickly.

"Are you sure?" Alex asked worriedly, "something keeping you awake?"

"Only the sound of Robin after he'd eaten three plates of beans," Kim mumbled half-heartedly.

"I told you, that was _not_ my digestive system, that was the plumbing," Robin blushed.

Alex could see there was more to the situation than dodgy pipes but didn't want to make Kim feel uncomfortable.,

"Well, it's always difficult to sleep in hotels," she said quietly, "let's get some breakfast and get today started. I've got plenty to tell you."

The three of them made their way to the self-service counter and loaded their plates with various breakfast goodies, slightly disturbed by one woman trying to convince her young son that there was no shell in the scrambled egg.

"Great, now _I'm_ paranoid," Robin mumbled, carefully hunting through his egg for any shell remnants.

As they began to eat Alex reached into her pocket and pulled out her notes. She unfolded the sheet of paper and laid it on the table between them.

"Last night I made good progress tracing the half-aunt that Robin heard about," she began.

"You did?" Robin was impressed, "idiot at the station made it sound like a dead end."

"His mother's half-sister was called Catherine Cove," Alex continued, "she had three children, seven grandchildren and a growing number of great-grand children. She and her husband ran a small jewellery shop which became quite successful and opened a few branches around the north of England. There are still several branches open, including two in Manchester itself."

"Who runs them now?" asked Kim.

"Well, not Catherine, sighed Alex, "she died some years back. One of her daughters took the reins until ninety-seven when she took early retirement. The franchise is now owned between _her_ children."

"And they're still in the area?" asked Robin, managing to get baked bean juice on Alex's sheet of notes, much to her distain. she scowled, wiped it off with a napkin and finally answered his question.

"It seems that way," she said, "it looks like at least one of her descendants is still very hands-on running the shops."

"So we have our first destination for the day?" asked Kim.

Alex nodded.

"One of the shops is only ten minutes away," Alex told her, "we'll start there and see whether we can speak to any of Gene's relatives directly."

"Bloody hell, good work," Robin nodded, "so much for the stupid twat in the station and his 'dead end'."

"There's no guarantee we'll get to speak to anyone we're looking for," Alex warned, "but at least we have something to go on." She felt her heart starting to speed up, "I really feel like we're on the right track now."

Robin scraped up the last of his breakfast and got to his feet.

"I'm just going back for _one more_ plate of beans," he said.

"Oh no, Rob, _don't,"_ Kim protested, "we're going to be stuck in the car all day. I'm not putting up with the after-effects!"

"Just _half_ a plate then," Robin said, sticking out his tongue and heading to the serving counter before Kim could protest any further.

Alex had to laugh as Kim put her head in her hands and groaned.

"He's doing it to wind me up now, I swear it," she said.

"Well, we'll leave a window open," said Alex. She looked at Kim with a smile growing on her face. "And hopefully we won't be in the car for long anyway."

"Oh?" Kim asked.

Alex nodded.

"I think this is it," she said, "I have a very strong feeling about this." She took a deep breath as she felt a powerful sense of nervous excitement running through her veins. "I really think we're getting closer now, Kim. I think," she paused, "I'll be going home."

She could feel it building. There was something in the air. Something she couldn't explain. It was going to be a very powerful day, the air was almost crackling with energy and the path home was clearing.


	88. Chapter 45, 1997: Family Fail

**Chapter 45: 1997**

There it was; that blissful moment of ignorance.

That moment upon awakening where, for just two, maybe three seconds, you simply don't '_remember'._

Your mind is a clear and happy blank canvas and even though you are becoming quickly aware from the searing pain in your head and the acid bile rising in your throat that all is not quite right you still don't actually '_remember'._

That blissful moment. _Precious_ moment. Something you wish you could hold onto forever.

Unfortunately, life doesn't work that way.

X

The moment the memory rushed back into Gene's head with all the force of Geoff on steroids, driving a demolition lorry, his eyes flew open and his stomach heaved. Some things made no sense – he didn't know where he was, he didn't know why he was hanging over the side of the bed and he didn't know why he had a tape jammed into his leg through the pocket of his trousers.

But there were things that he _did_ know. There were things that his head wouldn't let him forget, despite the brief moment of ignorant bliss. In his mind's eye he could see that angry look on Simon's face as he took Gene step by step through the anger he was feeling about the arrest and subsequent release of his mother, some twenty years ago. In his head it wasn't just anger he could see on Simon's face - it was a reflection of his own features.

The truth hit him like a fist to the guts. His eyes closed tightly and he tried in vain to wish away the discovery that was crushing his chest and making it impossible to breathe, but he couldn't. The more he tried to fight it, the more he could see _her;_ Simon's mother. Good looking woman she was, too. Certainly the best of the bunch he'd picked up on the streets that night when poor Pete the Tramp had been given a liberal dose of recycled booze. The poor chap had never lived it down, either. On the street he was known for years as _Pissed-on Pete._ All because one drunken woman couldn't hold it any longer.

He remembered her tears and the feeling of guilt as he realised she had nowhere to go. His own head was in a mess from his ex-wife's decision to teach him a lesson. But going away for a few days had backfired on her spectacularly when she had returned to find that Gene now knew their marriage could never work.

In all those years with his missus he'd never been unfaithful before. _Never_. Despite talking himself up to his colleagues and having one eye on the ladies at all times he had always kept it in his pants. Then one day, one sad stranger from out of town, one guilt complex and one offer of a good deed that went so utterly wrong –

"Twenty bloody years ago," he finally managed, with some difficulty, to right himself and sit on the bed, his thumping head in his hands, "and now it comes back to haunt me."

He hadn't even known she was married. She hadn't specified on her arrest papers and he didn't notice the ring until morning. They'd just hit it off, after she'd forgiven him for his rough interview technique. A couple of whiskeys and suddenly it all seemed like _such_ a good idea.

"It was the worst fucking idea I ever had," Gene mumbled.

Oh _god,_ his guts were churning. How much had he had to drink? He looked up and saw the bottle of scotch had been completely drained. There'd been a fair bit remaining when Simon left. How had he managed to get that much down him without drowning in a pool of his own vomit or succumbing to alcohol poisoning?

That had been _another_ thing that seemed like a good idea at the time; drowning his sorrows. It didn't seem like such a good idea as the contents of his stomach forced their way up to his throat and he scrambled for the bathroom, making fast friends with the toilet bowl. Oh god, it was probably no more than he deserved.

As he sank back to the ground, wiping his face on his sleeve, he thought about Simon and the sheer sense of impossibility that somehow his night of misguided passion had brought about his being into the world. He shook his head – it _wasn't_ possible. How could he have managed to impregnate a stranger and for her to take the damn child inside her through the real world for nine months?

He hung his head as the scan picture came to mind. He seemed to be making a habit of this.

"I never bloody _knew,"_ he mumbled miserably as his head thumped out an unpleasant tune. What were ever the chances of Simon following in his footsteps and joining the force anyway? What were the chances that they were going to not only meet but be forced into a situation where they worked together every day? He thought about how confused everyone had been by the fact that Simon had been thrown in at the deep end; that his return to Fenchurch East in Gene's world had seen him immediately launched into a Gene-like role. He thought about the strange power that Simon seemed to have there, how quickly the stars had come out to play when Keats forced him to work at Fenchurch West. There had always been something different about Simon. He was loathed to use the word 'special' but there seemed to be exceptions made for him every step of the way, as though his path had been laid out so far ahead; his fate planned out in detail.

"Key to the bloody kingdom," Gene mumbled, his stomach finally settled enough to make an attempt at getting up from the floor. He swayed as his head pounded just a little harder. Why was this happening? Why was this all coming out _now?_ Like he didn't have enough to deal with. And he didn't even have Alex to help him work through this. God, he missed her more than ever now. He had a feeling she would know just the right things to say_. Or,_ he considered, she might just have some stern words for him about his lack of protection but either way he just wished desperately that he could talk to her, tell her what had happened, let hers soothing words help him to come to terms with the shock.

The only other person he had to talk to about personal matters was – well, _Simon._ Bollocks. _That_ wasn't exactly going to happen. He didn't have any other friends. It had taken long enough for him and _Simon_ to become that much.

He felt a twinge of something in his gut, and this time it was nothing to do with the overdose of scotch. It came as he thought about the reasons why he and Simon had found it difficult to hit it off initially. Although Gene knew it wasn't exactly fair to think that way he couldn't help but feel a burst of discomfort at the thought that his son… possible son… _probable_ son… was gay. _Shit,_ he knew he'd come a long way - he might never head on a gay pride march but it had stopped being an issue to him a long time ago. But that was when they were friends. Now he couldn't help but think about Simon's genetics. What did having a gay son say about him? What would people say?

That wasn't all. In fact, Gene could almost get over that part but he couldn't handle the thought that his own flesh and blood might be the biggest geek in the whole of London, if not the country. It was all fun and games when he was taunting Simon about his Red Dwarf videos and telling him he had an Arnold Rimmer complex but – if Gene was truly honest with himself – Simon wasn't exactly the kind of man that he would have chosen as a son.

And just _thinking_ that made Gene feel like the worst father in the world.

"Oh _shit,"_ his legs went from under him as he tumbled to the ground, a realisation taking away control of his limbs, "I'm a bloody father."

As he sat there in a state of shock all over again, staring absently at the wall and trying to process the discovery piece by piece a loud knock on the door made him jump so much he felt sure he was going to hit his head on the ceiling.

"_Gene?"_

"Oh _shit,"_ Gene closed his eyes and leaned against the toilet. He wasn't ready for this, not yet. He couldn't face Simon. How could he look him in the eye? In fact, how was he _ever_ going to look him in the eye?

"Gene?" another round of knocking followed, "come _on,_ Gene, you'd better bloody be there. No pubs. No heaven. You _promised."_

Gene swallowed hard. The room was spinning again.

"_Bugger off, Shoebury, I'm on the bog,"_ he called out.

There was a pause, presumably one of relief of Simon's part as he realised that Gene was thereafter all.

"_Gene, they're serving breakfast,"_ Simon called out eventually, _"You're going to miss it."_

Gene's stomach lurched at the thought of food.

"Think I'll give it a miss, Simon," he called back, flinching every time he said or thought Simon's name, "overdid it with the scotch last night. Me guts aren't siting right."

"_I thought a nice, greasy fry-up was your cure-all for alcohol-related ailments,"_ Simon pointed out.

Gene rubbed his forehead, desperately hoping Simon would just leave him in peace for a while.

"Must be pizza poisoning then," he said, "just go and scoff yer own while I take a bloody shower, alright? When you've had yer fill of bacon come back and I'll have me head together."

There was a pause.

"_Gene?"_

Gene rolled his eyes.

_"Now_ what, Shoebury? Bacon won't eat itself."

"_I need to know."_

Gene froze. Exactly what did he mean?

"Need to know what?" he asked, his voice unsteady.

"_Have you made a decision?"_

Gene groaned internally and flinched at Simon's question. Suddenly the thought of moving on and getting in that last round was far from his mind.

"What a difference a bloody day makes," he mumbled to himself as he got to his feet and reluctantly slumped out of the bathroom. He took the chain off the door and opened it a short way. He could see a look of shock on Simon's face as he took in the full state of Gene, but he couldn't worry about that now. "Yes, Simon, I have," he said quietly.

"Gene, you look _awful,"_ Simon blurted before he could stop himself, "I mean…" he wrinkled up his nose as the scent of second-hand scotch oozed through every pore of Gene's body, "how much did you have after I left last night?"

Gene closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Just needed to get me head straight," he said quietly.

Simon hesitated.

"And?"

Gene looked down. He couldn't look Simon ion the eye.

"And I'll give it one more go," he said.

Simon stared at Gene, thinking he'd misheard.

"You will?" he asked, hoping this wasn't just a trick.

Gene nodded his head.

"You were right," he said, his voice breaking a little as he said quietly, "I can't walk out on me own flesh and blood." Those words stung him in the chest. They held a double meaning now that he couldn't let Simon in on. The less he knew, the better. He finally changed a glance at Simon's face. He seemed relieved but almost suspicious.

"You've said you'd give it another go before," he said.

Gene nodded. He knew that.

"I mean it this time," he said. He took in a deep breath. The room was spinning and so was his stomach. He needed to sit down before he _fell_ down or threw up. "Look, Simon, please, go and have yer breakfast, leave me to scrub the scotch off me skin. I'll see you in half an hour."

Simon hesitated but Gene seemed very serious. Finally he gave a nod and a tiny smile of relief.

"OK," he said, "I'll see you soon." He paused, taking a step back, "And, Gene?"

Gene closed his eyes.

"What?"

"I'm glad. I'm really, _really_ glad."

The warm smile of friendship that Simon gave him before he left for breakfast truly turned up the guiltometer by several notches. As he closed the door and sank down against it Gene had no idea how he was ever going to handle this. All of a sudden his life had been turned completely on its head. Where he was supposed to go from there, he didn't have the faintest idea.


	89. Chapter 46, 2012: Jewel Control

_**A/N: I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who is still following this story and left has reviews and messages; it's been epic and I'm feeling a little sad as the end approaches. I think there are about 15 more chapters left after this one – not that that's actually 'the end' because there will be another story following straight on from the end (because I seem to have developed a serious addiction to A2A fic writing!) Seriously, writing has really helped me through a very difficult time and a risky pregnancy and I'd have definitely gone crazy by now without this distraction x**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 46: 2012**

"Looks like this is it," Kim said as she pulled up outside of the small but striking shop. The modest frontage allowed the glistening jewellery to stand out in the window. An understated sign boasting _Finn's Fine Jewels_ above the door told Alex they were in the right place.

"It is," she said quietly.

"What are you going to say when you go in?" Robin asked. He'd had no qualms about using whatever tales necessary to get the information from the station the day before but he couldn't imagine how Alex was going to prise information from a jewellery shop.

"I thought I'd actually use the coma angle," said Alex.

Kim frowned.

"_Coma angle?"_ she repeated, "if you don't mean you're going to knock them all out and send them to a limbo for jewellers then I think you're going to have to explain that a bit better.

"I'm going to use a bit of the truth to start with," Alex explained, "obviously I can't tell them my connection with Gene but I can explain that I was in a coma when the news reports filtered through. I'll just tell them that when I woke up I remembered what I had heard about and developed an interest in finding out who the _unknown PC_ was."

"Cunning," Robin smiled.

Kim watched as Alex opened the door and began to climb out the car, then she quickly made a snap decision and called;

"Hold up." She unfastened her seatbelt and opened the door of the car. "I'll come in with you."

"I can manage this one on my own," Alex told her.

Kim looked a little perturbed.

"I know that," she said, "I just…" she paused, "I could do with getting out the car for a bit. Getting the seatbelt off me. Probably had too much for breakfast. They should have known better than to offer a self-service buffet."

Alex gave a slight shrug. She didn't really mind either way if Kim decided to come with her or not but she needed to get going.

"Alright," she said, "come on."

There was a strange glint in Kim's eye as she ran after her, leaving Robin to mind the Fiat. He stared out of the window at the shop, a strange shudder going down his spine.

"Today is going to be a very significant day," he whispered to himself.

~xXx~

A quaint little bell rang as Alex stepped through the doorway which made Kim giggle a little.

"What?" frowned Alex glancing back over her shoulder.

"It's like Ye Olde Shop time!" Kim said quietly, trying not to laugh.

Alex rolled her eyes, fairly certain that plenty of shops had a little bell that rang as you entered. She ignored it the best that she could and walked slowly to the counter where a young blonde lady with a pristine white blouse and a friendly smile stood.

"Good morning," Alex greeted her, a little nervousness in her voice.

"Morning, madam," the woman smiled, "how can I help you today?"

Alex hesitated and shuffled a little on the spot as she reached the counter. It was funny how she could keep her nerve on any given undercover operation, stakeout or case but faced with a shop assistant, asking questions about Gene, she suddenly felt so anxious inside. Perhaps because she had more riding on this.

"I wanted to ask a couple of questions about the history of the shop, actually," she began, "and the family who have been running the chain."

"I'm afraid I don't know very much about it," the young woman said apologetically, "I'm just the weekend girl."

Inwardly Alex cursed. Of course, one of the difficulties with being there for the weekend was that the people she really needed to see would likely be at home with their own families, _damnit_. She glanced around hoping for Kim's support but found her friend busy wandering around, staring at cases of jewellery. _So much for that._ She sighed and looked back at the shop assistant.

"The person I'm hoping to speak to is," she reached for the paper in her pocket to remind her of the name, "A miss Hayley Ford. I understand that she's the most hands-on of the three family partners?"

"Oh, _Hayley?_ Yeah," the young woman gave a friendly smile, "she's brilliant. Really knows her stuff. She actually trained me herself."

"Do you have a phone number?" Alex asked a little anxiously, "or an address, maybe…?"

The assistant hesitated.

"I don't want to give out personal information like that," she said.

Alex looked down.

"No. no, of course not," she began, preparing to request that Kim flash her ID and begin taking the request through a more official route but before she had a chance the assistant continued,

"But there's a branch over on the west side of the city centre where she's far more active."

There was a spark of excitement inside Alex as she heard those words.

"Oh?" she said, trying to keep her cool.

"She may be over there around midday," the woman told her, "would you like me to give you the address of the branch?"

Alex already had the address of the branch, along with a crudely sketched map, but it seemed much more polite to take her up on her offer.

"Yes please," she said, "that's very kind of you, thank you."

The woman smiled and reached for a leaflet full of facts about their branches, on which she ringed the second address on the back.

"This is it," she said, leaning forward and pointing with her pen, "do you need any instructions on getting there or do you know the area?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Alex smiled, "and thank you _so_ much for your help."

"No problem," the woman smiled.

Alex took a deep breath as she slipped the leaflet into her pocket and turned around. It hadn't been a success exactly but she felt like she was getting even closer now. She walked quickly towards the door and placed a hand on Kim's shoulder. To her surprise Kim jumped as though she'd been miles away.

"We're going," she said, feeling a little guilty for startling her, "the one I want to speak to might be in the other branch in an hour or so from now."

Kim glanced around. She seemed to be shaking slightly and her eyes darted from side to side as though she was feeling guilty about something, but barring the possibility of robbing the shop Alex couldn't understand why she was looking shifty.

"Ma'am, you go back to the car," she said, "I won't be long."

"You're not coming?" frowned Alex.

Kim shuffled a little. She bit her lip and began,

"I won't be long. Can you stall Robin?"

"_Stall_ him?" Alex wasn't sure that anything made sense anymore, "stall him why, exactly?"

Kim swallowed.

"My watch has stopped," she lied, "they replace batteries while you wait. I don't want him to know in case he gets upset, he only bought it for me for Christmas."

"Why would that upset him?" frowned Alex.

Kim took a deep breath.

"Oh, you know," she said awkwardly, "he's so emotional at the moment. He'll probably claim the watch saw him coming and is being horrible to him."

Alex actually thought that Kim might have a point there.

"Alright, she said, "be quick though."

"I'll try," said Kim with a nervous smile. She watched Alex leave, then her expression grew more anxious and serious. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her keyring on which there was an extra item; a single band ring that she'd slipped from its precious place of safekeeping under the bed the night before their journey began. It was the ring that Robin had warn ever since it was found upon Simon's body after their car accident, until Robin made the decision to let himself move on and to find happiness with Kim, at least for as long as they had. She slipped it from the keyring and walked quickly to the desk.

"Uh, hi," she began, her smile nervous.

"Good morning," the assistant greeted her, "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," Kim said uneasily. She placed the ring on the counter. "I need to know the size of this ring," she began, "and then –" she glanced around and nodded a little anxiously to a cabinet of wedding bands, "I need a ring the same size… I've seen a couple…. But I don't know if they'll fit."

"Well, let's get this measured and see," the woman said with a smile.

Kim swallowed as she watched the assistant sizing the ring. There were ten tons of butterflies in her tummy and she couldn't keep still. _Dear god,_ what was she doing? She'd never been so nervous before, and that included standing near the Nick Nailer cut-out before DI March defiled it. But the weekend had given her a crash course in life being too short and happiness being such a precarious state of affairs. She'd been thinking for weeks about what it would be like; to make things official, to ask Robin the question that she wanted to hear a _yes_ to so very much. Somehow that had slipped from being a possibility to a _probability_ and finally she couldn't fight the need to ask him that question.

She only hoped her nerves were going to hold out.

~xXx~

"Yes, it's a very nice bath," Robin frowned and turned to walk away but Alex gripped his sleeve and pulled him back.

"But _look!"_ she cried in fake exuberance, "there's a big shelf attached to the end so you can keep all your shampoo and your shower gel and everything on it!"

Robin's head was starting to hurt. He didn't want to look at bathroom fittings. He had _never_ wanted to look at bathroom fittings, let alone on a stressful weekend in Manchester. Alex's initial return from the jewellery shop and excitement at finding out that she just might get to speak to the person she'd been hoping to meet had turned to a terrifying display of bathroom obsession when he'd happened to ask where Kim was. At first she'd mumbled something about the toilet and then pulled Robin from the car over to a bathroom showroom window where she proceeded to describe at length every detail of a particular tub.

She had never been so grateful to see Kim approaching as she was by the time she reached the phrase _'exquisite taps' _and she glanced up to see a familiar face heading towards them.

"_Kim!"_ she said with an enormous fake smile, "how lovely to see you!" she added through gritted teeth, "Whatever kept you?"

Kim looked a little shifty.

"N-nothing," she said, "shall we get back to the car?"

"Yes, _please,"_ Robin said quickly with a wary eye on Alex, now convinced that her last coma had left her with some permanent damage in the bathroom-admiring cortex of the brain.

As they walked back to the Fiat Alex grabbed Kim's arm and said crossly,

"I hope that bloody battery was worth it. You _owe_ me."

Kim looked a little nervous.

"Yes," she said, "all working again now. Thanks, Ma'am."

"I'd say _'don't mention it'_ but what I'd really mean is, _please_ don't mention it, again, _ever,"_ Alex said crossly, "Robin now thinks he's getting a whole bathroom suite as a present, I think."

Kim felt a little guilty as she climbed back into the car, but the ring purchase was something she had to do alone. The next step was going to be the hard part – getting up the courage to even _ask_. But there would be plenty of time for that later. For now, the immediate future held a drive to the other side of the city with another jewellery stop to visit. There was a strange and electric energy in the air.

Worlds were passing closer together and Alex could almost taste home.


	90. Chapter 46, 1997: Driven Crazy

**Chapter 46: 1997**

It felt like the longest shower Gene had ever taken. The temperature grew from warm to tepid to stone cold as he stood under the pouring water. He supposed he hoped, in a way, that the shower would wash away more than the smell of the booze. He was hoping it might wash away some of the guilt and some of the shock but by the time he'd finished he still felt just as perturbed as he had at the start.

He dried himself off and quickly gathered everything together. As soon as Simon returned from his breakfast they would head back to London, giving Gene a few hours of alone time to get his head straight. He couldn't even begin to work out what to do next. His initial reaction had been to reach for the scotch and that hadn't helped so he supposed there was no way around it but to do some serious thinking. A long drive was just right for that.

He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the tape he'd pilfered from Simon the night before. He wasn't even completely sure why he had taken it. Perhaps he was clinging to a last hope that the woman he'd taken home that night _wasn't _Simon's mother and this was some other tramp-pissing incident entirely; that he'd listen to the tape and feel relief washing over him that he'd got it all wrong. Inside he knew that wasn't likely but he was clutching at straws.

Simon's knock at the door caused him to jump a little and he slipped the tape back into his pocket.

"Alright, alright, give me a bloody minute will you," Gene mumbled. He trudged back to the door and opened it. "You could knock off the banging a bit 'til I've found some bloody painkillers and me shades."

"Sorry," Simon stopped leaning against the wall and stood up straight. "You look a bit more human."

Gene couldn't quite bring himself to look Simon in the eye. He nodded vaguely and turned around to collect up his things.

"Must have some kind of elixir of youth in their bloody showers," Gene told him.

"So," Simon began, "what do you want to do this morning?"

Gene closed his eyes for a moment.

"I want to bugger off back 'ome and get rid of me hangover," he said.

"You can't drive home yet," said Simon.

Gene scowled.

"Who are you? Keeper of the Road?"

"You must have half that bottle of scotch still running through your blood stream, I can smell it," said Simon.

"Ever thought about putting a peg on yer nose," Gene mumbled as he picked up his coat.

"I'm serious, Gene," said Simon, "I can see you swaying. If you get stopped you could still be over the limit. Even if you're not I don't feel safe about the thought of you driving."

"I'll get a black coffee on the way," Gene said crossly.

"Let me drive you back," said Simon, "you can sleep it off in the back on the way." 

"I'm not leaving me bloody shiny pride and joy for any old bugger to scratch," Gene said indignantly.

"Alright, I'll drive you home in _your_ car and pick mine up at the weekend.

"Car like that expects a certain calibre of driver," Gene mumbled, crossing to the door, "you put yer hands on the wheel it'll laugh in yer face."

"_Alright,"_ Simon said crossly, "just give it a couple of bloody hours then. Get a coffee, get some paracetamol, get something to eat and in a couple of hours we'll get moving."

"Shoebury I appreciate the concern," Gene said awkwardly, "but this isn't time to get into a drink-driving campaign. I want to get home." He finally looked at Simon, even though he couldn't meet his eye, "I've driven in far worse condition than this." He paused, "_you_ were the one who wanted me to bloody stick around. Make me stay for too long and I just might change me mind and go for that drink after all."

"Gene, that's not fair," Simon frowned. He looked at him crossly, "don't bloody try to bribe me. I want you to stay, I also want you to get home in one piece. _You_ were the one who wanted to soak up a taste of your home town before you went to the pub. Why don't you make the most of it? I mean, when was the last time you came to Manchester?"

Gene honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd returned to his northern hometown. He knew Simon had at least _part_ of a point – he'd not wanted to move on until he'd had one last visit home. But he'd been to all the places he wanted to see and there was nowhere he really wanted to go now exact back to Fenchurch. All he wanted was a nice, quiet car journey and to be alone with his thoughts. Simon wasn't planning on letting it drop though and Gene found himself focusing on how bloody-minded the boy could be. He cursed himself for starting to draw the comparison with his own personality. It wasn't the first similarity that had come to mind that morning.

"Alright," he barked eventually, "we'll have a bloody coffee and when my blood alcohol level has reached a Shoebury-approved point we'll go. Happy?

"Deliriously," sighed Simon.

~xXx~

Gene's head was still throbbing as they paid for their stay and left the B&B. His first priority was paracetamol. Anything after that, he couldn't really think about yet. They walked a short distance to a parade of shops and picked up some painkillers from a small chemist.

"Phase one complete," Gene mumbled as he downed a couple and used a gulp of scotch to wash them down.

"Gene, you're not supposed to mix alcohol and painkillers," Simon cried.

"Oh relax, Shoebury," Gene wasn't in the mood for lectures, "it was one tiny sip and besides, _you're_ not supposed to mix being a friend with being a smartarse." He started to walk in the direction of the Railway Arms which set off Simon's paranoia again.

"Gene, where are we going?" he demanded, "you said –"

"I'm not off to meet me maker, I'm getting me shades from the car," Gene huffed.

Simon thrust his hands in his pockets as the cold day started to get into his bones. He tried to keep himself as compact as possible as he walked along.

"Do you fancy a drive?" he asked.

"Thought I wasn't _allowed_ to drive," Gene muttered.

"No, I mean, _I'll_ do the driving," Simon explained, "It's just, I've never been to Manchester before. I'd like to see some of it while I'm here."

"Help yerself, I'm not stopping you," said Gene, walking a couple of paces ahead so that he wouldn't have to look at Simon.

"I thought you could give me a bit of a guided tour?" Simon tried. Even despite his hangover Gene seemed extra evasive and Simon wasn't happy with the way he was behaving. He wasn't completely convinced that the lure of the Railway Arms wasn't still beckoning him.

"Simon, " Gene turned around quite sharply, "it's bad enough that I've got you banning me from getting behind the wheel until me liver's done its duty. I don't want to be driven around the finer parts of my home town like some bloody outcast from the royal family."

Simon stopped walking and shook his head, his hands on his hips as he began;

"Come _on_, Gene. I'm trying to make an effort here. I already feel shitty about last night. Don't make me beg."

Gene found his footsteps trailing to a halt as he frowned in confusion. He turned around slowly and looked at Simon's guilty and put-out expression.

"What is yer cakehole jabbering about now?" he asked.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did," Simon seemed fairly abashed by his behaviour, "I'd just… I'd been bottling it up, I think. I didn't realise how much it was upsetting me, and I lashed out. I know you were only doing your job and if I'd arrested a group of women on the piss then I'd have done exactly the same thing."

Gene felt his face growing hot and hoped that he wasn't turning red.

"I don't think you would have done _quite_ the same thing," he mumbled.

"It was just hard to listen to you talking to my mum that way on the tape, and even though I know that's just your way…" Simon sighed, "Well, that's how you get results. I know that. I'm sorry I got so angry with you."

Gene felt incredibly uncomfortable suddenly. He wished and hoped and prayed for a way out of the conversation. Maybe a giant albatross would come down and scoop him away? Nah, knowing his luck he'd just get a pigeon crapping on his shoulder.

"Simon, it's fine," he said, starting to move forward again. He just wanted to get to his car, dip inside for his shades and take a few moments to cool down. "Let's just forget the whole thing."

"I'm sure you can understand why I was so upset," Simon pressed the subject, "it would be like if you suddenly found out I'd done the same thing to Alex."

Gene froze again.

"Done _what_ to Alex, exactly?" he asked.

"Arrested her," frowned Simon, "interrogated her. I mean, it's fine seeing you pull some stranger to pieces but when it's someone you care about…"

Gene felt like his head was going to explode. He began to walk faster, a desperate need to escape the conversation. He felt his guts churning again; nothing to do with the scotch, just an abundance of guilt. What the hell was he supposed to do? He felt guilty for what he'd done, and he felt guilty for keeping it from Simon. But Simon had reacted so badly to the fact that Gene had arrested his mother in the first place, how was he going to explain that the handcuffs got an additional airing later that night for another purpose?

_Shit._

He breathed a sigh of relief as they got to the Railway Arms and he zeroed in on his car.

"I'll get me shades," he said, diving for the safety of his car. He breathed in deeply as he took rather longer than necessary rooting through his glove compartment. How was he ever going to straighten his head out from this? He knew one thing for certain – he couldn't even think about telling Simon the truth until he knew how he felt about it himself. How long that was going to take, he didn't have the faintest idea.

"_Mon Brave, what a fine morning!"_

Oh _great;_ Nelson. Gene rolled his eyes and hit his head on the roof of the car as he backed out toward the chirpy voice. He could see from the look on Nelson's face that the man had already realised Gene wasn't coming back to head through the doors of his pub.

"Would be a fine morning if me head wasn't splitting in two," he mumbled, rubbing it slightly as he closed the car door. He turned around and saw that Nelson looked truly pleased. "Yeah, _alright_, you can turn down the grin a few notches. I'm not coming to claim me free drinks just yet."

"Not that you won't be more than welcome when the time comes," Nelson told him warmly, "you have a lot of friends who have got one in for their Guv. One day you'll come inside and they'll be stacked from bar to ceiling, my friend – but that day is not today." He nodded. "The bar is bare."

"Just as well, since someone's keeping an eye on me blood alcohol level," he narrowed his eyes at Simon.

"You want to lose your licence?" Simon challenged.

"You want to lose all feeling in yer body after going three rounds with the filing cabinet?"

"This is not a day for fighting," Nelson told them, "this is a day to celebrate."

"I'll get a silly hat and party poppers," Gene said sarcastically but his heart wasn't really in it.

"Nelson, will you keep an eye on Gene's _dearly beloved_ car?" Simon asked, "we'll pick it up in a couple of hours."

"With pleasure," Nelson nodded.

"I don't remember agreeing to this guided tour idea of yours, Shoebury," Gene frowned as Simon unlocked his car and held the passenger side door open for him.

"Well what _else_ are you going to do? Help Nelson scrub tables?" Simon raised an eyebrow.

Gene glanced at Nelson.

"You got a can of polish and a rag?" he asked but Simon was insistent.

"Get in, Gene," he sighed.

It wasn't that Gene would normally take orders from anyone, let alone Simon. It wasn't that he was happy about the enforced trip around the city. But it was just easier than arguing this time. He didn't have the energy for it. Every bit of energy in his body was going towards fretting about one night, back in 1977.

"Alright," he mumbled, "but you steer clear of Canal Street or I'm running a mile."

"Deal," Simon nodded.

Reluctantly Gene climbed inside the car and folded his arms, staunchly refusing to wear the seat belt or to converse along the way. His mind was a mess and his physical state wasn't in much better shape. _One step at a time,_ he told himself. Today he would just cope with getting home in one piece. Then tomorrow he would try to work out what it meant to suddenly find yourself a father to a 33 year old man.

As they drove a long both felt a strange energy buzzing in the air. Neither spoke of it or acknowledged it in any way but it was definitely there. Strange and unnerving, it surrounded them. As far as Gene was concerned, the day was strange enough already. He turned and stared out of the side window to block it out. Life needed to calm down a little, otherwise he and his splitting headache would never be able to catch up.


	91. Chapter 47, 2012: Counting Down

**Chapter 47: 2012**

_Is this it, Gene? Is this what I have to do?_

Alex stared out of the window, her mind a million miles away. Or fifteen years away, to put it another way. There was a hint of a smile on her face. It was hard to explain but the feeling that she was on the right track had grown more and more with every moment that passed since she had spoken to the lady in the jewellery shop. The previous day she had felt a little progress being made but now, on a bright and sunny if chilly Sunday morning, she felt for certain that she was on the path that would lead her home.

She closed her eyes for a moment and let thoughts of home fill her heart with jolts of excitement. It began to beat at double time and a buzz of anticipation ran through her veins. They were getting closer now and she could feel that nervous energy starting to grow out of control. She wished she wasn't stuck in a car because she could have done with a fast walk or to start running up and down like a hyped-up child just to get it out of her system. She had a feeling her hefty bump would have something to say about the running up and down part, though.

She turned her attention to Kim and Robin in the front as Kim drove and Robin kept an eye on her at all times, almost as though he was worried she was going to vanish from before him. There was something strange about both of them that morning. Both has been strangely quiet, aside from Kim accusing Robin of '_letting one go'_ on a couple of occasions and Robin feverishly refuting the allegations, even though he'd clearly been to blame at least once.

Even despite that, they were both behaving a little oddly but Alex couldn't put her finger on quite what was wrong. Maybe they could feel the energy in the air too? She noted every now and then Robin would reach out and just touch Kim's arm, a gesture she would always repay with a smile. It saddened Alex to realise that, the closer she came to finding her way home, the nearer she came to losing their friendship too. She was going to miss them both, even if she was now convinced that Robin felt sure she was leaving him a bathroom suite in her will.

The act of the car stopping brought Alex's attention back to the real world.

"That's it", Kim told her pointing to a shop that bore some similarities to the first they'd been to. The frontage used the same font and title but the moulding around the window was highly ornate and attractive. The window still held an array of exquisite jewels which glinted through the glass. Alex took a deep breath, swallowed back her nerves and climbed out of the car.

"Here goes nothing," she said.

"Or everything," Robin pointed out.

"Good luck, Ma'am," Kim called after her.

Alex flashed her friends a grateful smile. Their support had meant the world to her and knowing that their journey was reaching an end she felt as though there was still so much that she wanted to say to them but wasn't sure how. She just hoped that they understood how much their friendship meant as she turned and began to walk towards the shop that promised so much.

~x~

Opening the door to the shop felt a little like opening the door to her route home. Just like in the first, there was a little bell that tinkled as she entered the room and thoughts of Kim's earlier reaction made her smile. The branch was larger than the first she'd been to and this time there were customers already looking at the selection of jewellery all around them. She moved through them a little anxiously and reached the counter where an older lady with greying hair stood.

"Good morning, madam," she said quite formally, "can I help you?"

"I hope so," Alex found her voice trembling slightly as she spoke, "I've been told I might be able to speak to one of the store owners. Hayley Ford. I heard she might be here at this time?"

"Might I ask what this is regarding?" the woman asked a little snootily. Alex wasn't sure she liked that attitude but tried not to show it.

"It's a family matter," she said.

"You are…?" the woman prompted.

Alex took a deep breath. Trust a jobsworth to get in her way.

"My name is Alex Drake," she began, "I'm –"

"Alex… _Drake,"_ the woman repeated. She looked at her critically, "I think… I saw you on the news. The coma patient."

Alex scowled a little.

"It's not a name I like to go by, but –"

"You're a police officer, aren't you?"

"Detective, but yes."

The woman seemed a little star-struck.

"And your godfather is Evan _'the Beard'_ White!" she said, hearts practically forming in her eyes, "Oh, he's _such_ a handsome man!"

Alex felt her eyes closing involuntarily as she tried to control her temper. This was not quite going to plan.

"Yes," she said tightly, "that's right."

"Oh, such a horrible business," the woman said, looking at her with a certain amount of pity, "the prison sentence and the shaving…I'm sure they'll exonerate him soon."

"As much as I'd love to discuss the legal situation of my godfather and his facial hair," Alex began stiffly, "I really need to speak to the store's owner. Is she here?"

"She's just dealing with those customers over there," the woman nodded to a young couple who were viewing an expensive-looking necklace, "Miss Ford?"

A lady looked up at the call of her name.

"Yes?"

"There's a young lady here to speak to you," the woman said.

"I'm just dealing with a customer," Hayley told her.

"I can take over for you," the woman smiled, coming out from behind the counter. She walked towards Hayley, mumbling, "famous woman, that one. Miss Two Comas. Evan White's goddaughter. See if you can get her to convince him to endorse your new jewel-encrusted beards."

Those were not words Alex had ever wanted to hear in her life. She shuddered and tried to keep her breakfast down at the mental image it conjured up, then tried to restore her expression to a neutral standing before the woman she'd been determined to speak to began to walk in her direction.

"Hi," she greeted Alex, holding out her hand, "I'm Hayley Ford. I hear you wanted to speak to me?"

Alex managed to forget the jewel encrusted beards for long enough to smile and shake the woman's hand.

"Hello," she said, "I'm so sorry for taking up your time but I'm trying to track down the family line of an unidentified police officer. Research has led me to your family; your grandmother to be precise. Catherine Cove."

Hayley seemed a little overwhelmed and confused by the questions.

"I'm not sure I understand," she said, "I don't think we have any police in our family."

"But Catherine _was_ your grandmother?"

"Well, yes," Hayley rubbed her forehead, "look, would you like to come through to the side room? I'll make us a cup of tea and we can talk properly."

Alex wasn't really in the mood for tea but she smiled politely and took her up on her offer. She felt somewhat guilty for bursting unannounced into the stranger's day but now she had actually found her she felt a little more confident that she was getting somewhere. Accepting tea was a small price to pay for speaking to someone who could help her to find peace for Gene.

~xXx~

"I'm worried about Alex."

Kim glanced at Robin as his anxious tone caught her attention.

"Why?" she asked apprehensively.

"I think she's flipped," Robin said, a panicked look upon his face, "she was going on about bathrooms and she was saying things about taps that no self-respecting person should ever express."

Kim bit her lip to stop her from letting a giggle escape. She felt a little guilty about the bathroom conversation, knowing that it was her request for Alex to stall Robin that had caused the unpleasant situation in the first place.

"I think she's fine," she said, "maybe she's just thinking of remodelling when she goes home."

"Well I can't see Gene getting excited over the _tiles from heaven_," Robin told her.

Kim looked at him with a smile.

"I think Alex is fine," she said. She reached out and ran her fingers along the back of his hand. "When all this is over –"

"You make it sound like we're coming home from war," Robin commented.

"Well, when Alex finds her way home," Kim corrected, "let's just go away somewhere for a few days. Just the two of us. No work, no houseguests, no time-travelling, just us."

"Oh, I would _really_ like that," Robin sighed. He looked at her seriously. "It's been a really rough couple of months, hasn't it."

"A really rough _year,"_ Kim agreed, "I think it's time we got a break." She gave a determined nod. "Things will get better for us, Rob. And I know there's still a lot we have to work through," she saw his expression fall a little as he thought about his genetic connection with Keats and regretted mentioning it, "but we'll get there." She squeezed his hand. "It's going to be a better year."

His deep eyes drew her in and she leaned forward, her lips searching for his to show him the strength of her feelings for him. She closed her eyes and let everything else fade away into the background, except for the gentle kiss and the knowledge of the ring waiting in her pocket, to be brought to the surface when the moment was right.

As Robin shuffled a little closer to her and cupped her face he was aware of a strange clicking sound and a second later music began to burst forth from the radio. It caused both of them to jump a mile, pulling apart from their kiss quickly with hearts pounding. It wasn't just the unexpected and unexplainable interruption of the radio that disturbed them so much but the song that greeted them. It was a song that held a meaning for them both; the song that played as they fled the barge after Keats had left Layton's body and returned to the 90s, the song that Robin left playing at high volume from his car as he ran to help Kim and Molly so that he knew when he heard the music again they would be safe and the ordeal would be over.

_# …You took the tunnel route home,_

_you've never taken that way with me before._

_Did you feel the need for change?_

_Apologies on your fingernails,_

_love flickered in the city of lights,_

_Like intermittent radio waves… #_

Their eyes met in fear. That song brought forth such terrible and fearful memories, ones that both of them had worked so hard to bury. Neither could speak or even move for some time until finally Kim whispered,

"I… don't think I've heard that song from _that_ day until now."

There was a look of sheer panic on Robin's face as he replied,

"Neither have I."

"Why –" Kim looked at the radio, "how -?"

_# …I don't need your tears_

_I don't want your love_

_I just gotta get home… #_

Robin shook his head slowly, biting hard on his lip.

"I… I don't like this," he whispered.

"Neither do I," Kim whispered back.

He felt her squeezing his hand tightly, this time out of fear. Both knew that this wasn't going to be some random radio malfunction, this had happened for a reason and both could feel their anxiety rising. Something was in the air alright, but it seemed to be turning from bright to dark, just like the sky around them.

_# …And I feel like I'm breaking up,_

_and I wanted to stay,_

_Headlights on the hillside,_

_don't take me this way,_

_I don't want you to hold me,_

_I don't want you to pray,_

_This is bigger than us... #_

Finally able to force himself to move, Robin lashed out and switched off the radio. The relief as silence descended was intense; two hearts were still racing but began to slowly calm themselves down while two pairs of eyes closed for a moment to block out the rest of the world as they tried to rationalise the reappearance of a song that had come at such a vital time for both of them, all those months before.

When Robin finally opened his eyes again he saw that Kim was trembling. He was so used to her being strong and unshakable that it disturbed him to see that more than anything else. He reached around her and held her tightly against his shoulder in silence, just trying to help her to calm down and to know that he was there. He felt her breathing heavily against him; he could feel her heart racing through her clothes and through his. There was little else he could do to soothe her so he just stayed there, letting his arms do their best.

As his eyes opened he caught sight of his wrist where his arms met around her neck and all at once his own level of fear shot sky-high. Not two minutes earlier, his watch had stopped. The moment he realised, he felt as though life was starting to slip away, from all of them.


	92. Chapter 47, 1997: Accepting Returns

**Chapter 47: 1997**

"You alright, Gene?"

Gene glanced at Simon.

"Me? Fine. Full of the joys of spring," he said.

"You're looking a little green."

Gene had to admit that the car ride wasn't sitting well with the hangover. He should have tried to get some breakfast after all. Fried food really was his cure-all for most things. Hangovers, trauma, bullet wounds, you name it. He was fairly sure it had even helped Alex's morning sickness once. No, he was remembering that wrong – it brought _on_ her morning sickness. Oh well, there's always one exception to every rule.

"_Gene!"_

"_What?"_ Gene snapped.

"You didn't answer me," Simon said indignantly.

"You compared me complexion to the Incredible Hulk." Gene said crossly, "I didn't think that deserved an answer."

"I was more worried that you were going to cause a toxic spillage over the dashboard," Simon told him. He saw Gene turn his head away again. It made Simon feel a strong wave of sadness wash over him. It was as though suddenly overnight their friendship had gone back by miles. Was this all down to his angry accusations about his mother's arrest? He really hadn't expected Gene to be the type of person to hold a grudge about that. It wasn't as though Gene had blown up at him at the time, either. He'd been extremely patient while Simon got his rant off of his chest. Maybe it was the whole _Railway Arms_ thing? Was Gene still unsure about his decision?

Simon wasn't sure what was behind it but he did understand Gene had a lot on his mind. He must have still been worrying over the scan picture and wondering whether Alex would get back to him, quite apart from anything else. He tried not to worry about Gene's reaction and to try to ignore it instead. He'd be as patient as possible. It was the least he owed Gene.

"Thinking I might need that fry up after all."

"What, sorry?" Simon was so surprised to hear Gene speak that he completely zoned out what he was saying.

"You were right," Gene said a little reluctantly, "I turned down the best hangover cure in existence and now me insides are seeking their grease ration for the day."

"Well, I'm sure we can find somewhere to get _something_ to eat around here," Simon said cautiously, worried about upsetting Gene further somehow, "I think we passed a café a minute ago. Do you want me to turn back?"

He was aware of Gene's eyes turning in his direction.

"Only if you're paying," he said.

"Bloody cheek," Simon declared but there was a hint of a smile there. He was so relieved at hearing a little of the Gene he knew coming through that he would have gladly bought him a bacon factory. If he had the money, that was.

He turned around at the nearest opportunity and retraced the route they'd been driving through to get back to the café he'd spotted.

"Looks packed in there," Gene commented.

"Get a bacon sandwich to take away," Simon suggested

"It's not bloody Burger king," cried Gene.

"Oh for goodness sake," Simon closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, "I'm sure they'll wrap you up a sandwich in a napkin to take away." He paused as he waited for Gene to respond but when he didn't he decided to take matters into his own hands. Opening the car door with a sigh he turned to Gene and said, "alright, fine – if you're scared of a little café I'll get this for you. Stay here." He climbed out and slammed the door.

Gene watched as Simon marched to the café. He was fairly sure he'd now pissed Simon off to the Nth degree. At least it gave him a few moments of quiet to himself. He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to let his thoughts calm down a little. His head wasn't getting any straighter; despite the rate at which the alcohol was disappearing from his bloodstream. He felt something digging into his leg and reached into his pocket.

"The bloody tape," he mumbled, staring at Simon's mother's name facing him in his own handwriting. Keeping one eye on the café, he reached forward and pressed the eject button on Simon's cassette player. He slipped the tape inside, pressed rewind, let it spool back for just a couple of seconds and then pressed play before he lost his nerve.

_"Here's a tip – next time you see yer sister aiming a golden shower at someone who lists his address as 'third drain under the arch' it's time to go home."_

Gene's eyes closed tightly as he threw his head back against the headrest.

"_Bugger,"_ he mumbled. Yes, that was his voice alright. His voice, his manner, his elegant turn of phrase. Either that was an interview conducted by the Gene Genie or someone had spent years working on a perfect impersonation.

_"I can't go home! My coach isn't for hours. And now the rest of my family are spending the night banged up in here what am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to sleep?"_

_"Don't try the third drain under the arch, stinks of piss."_

"Shit."

He knew now. There was no doubt about it. His memory received an enormous jog in the right direction. He'd desperately hoped that there had been a mistake somewhere or that this had been one of Keats's tricks but now he'd heard it for himself it all came flooding back to him – the arrest, the interview, the tears from the pretty woman with nowhere to go.

He also remembered the regret in the morning; the awkwardness, the apologies on both sides, admitting to each other they were both married and that the whole thing had been a mistake – the difference was, one of them wanted to save their relationship and the other had just realised theirs was at an end. He remembered the near-silent drive to the coach station, the coy and shamed glance she gave him as she stepped onto the coach, the feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach that sat there like a rock for days and weeks; for _months,_ even.

The tape played on but he didn't need to hear any more. It was all there, back in his mind's eye. He remembered seeing a somewhat blurry picture of Simon's mother back the previous year. He'd thought she looked familiar but couldn't have placed her for the world. He remembered commenting to Simon that she was a nice looking woman. Now that comment made him want to disintegrate into a puddle on the floor and soak quietly into the carpet so that he would never have to communicate with Simon again.

He looked back out the window in time to see Simon leaving the café with a small paper bag. Swearing profusely, he stopped the tape and ejected it, forcing it back into the case and into his pocket just before Simon got back to the car, opened the door and leaned inside.

"I'm not letting you stink my car out with bacon," he said, "there's a bench over there."

Gene scowled.

"Getting out the car was not part of the bargain," he said.

"Eat it outside or don't eat it at all," Simon gave him the ultimatum. He raised an eyebrow as Gene hesitated. "Fine, _I'll _eat it."

"You bloody won't," Gene told him, opening the door and scrambling out, "you've already had o bloody fry up, you're not eating mine and all." He marched forward and snatched the bag from Simon who gave a slightly smug smile. "You can wipe that look off your face," Gene warned him, "I'm doing you a bloody favour."

_"Me?"_ cried Simon, "how did you figure that out?"

"You'll never outrun those toasters if you turn into a bloody lard-arse," Gene told him."

Simon folded his arms as he walked to the bench with a less than happy Gene.

"To be fair it's not really a case of outrunning the toasters," he said, "just whatever bready products they happen to be firing at me on any given day."

Gene sat down heavily on the bench and began unwrapping his sandwich. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Simon tried to scrape some congealed bird mess from the seat of the bench.

"God's sake Shoebury, it was good enough for the pigeon's arse, it'll be fine for yours," he admonished hm.

Simon glared at him briefly, then cautiously sank his backside down onto the bench.

"If I get a big white lump of bird poo on the back of my trousers you're doing the washing next," he grumbled.

"You've forbidden me from using the washing machine since I tried using it to water all yer plants in one go," Gene reminded him.

"I might have to make an exception," said Simon. He leaned back a little and looked around him, trying to take in just a little of the city. He realised he'd never actually strayed that far from home. He'd been on plenty of package holidays and various courses around the country but never actually explored much of the UK by himself. The last time he'd been more than fifty miles from London had been a boring conference in which no one even left the grounds and were force-fed endless cups of grey-tinted tea by a butler called Sergio.

"You'll wear it out if you look that hard," Gene told him through a mouthful of bacon.

Simon looked at him as though he'd lost the plot.

"What?"

"You and yer roving eyes, like a bloody telescope on Brighton beach," said Gene, "you taken in enough of the heady atmosphere yet?"

"Sorry," Simon sighed as he stared at the nearby shops, "just thinking how I've kind of missed out. Never really travelled that much. It's not like I want to go backpacking across Europe, I just feel like I'm…" he shook his head, "I don't know. Stuck where I am. Never get to see anywhere." He turned to Gene, "I mean, for all the crap that's come out of the stuff Keats has been sending me –" he noticed that Gene looked away quickly but didn't think much of it, "the one thing it has done is make me think about my family. I mean, I never knew my mother's side at all. I suppose the tramp-pissing incident was the one that caused the rift. Just made me wonder what I was missing out on all my life, never knowning them." He looked down. "I suppose it's too late now."

"Yeah, well," Gene shuffled uncomfortably, "families are overrated, Simon."

"Not always," Simon said quietly, "mine was happy." He found his head dropping as a pang of sadness came over him. "If they were my family at all."

Suddenly the bacon sandwich in Gene's hands lost all taste and appeal. The mouthful he was chewing felt like munching through clay. He forced it down his throat and laid his sandwich back in the bag.

"Simon," he began, not even knowing where he was going with that sentence. He could feel Simon's eyes on him, waiting for pearls of wisdom that he didn't have. The truth was choking him as it tried to rise in his throat. He gulped it back down but it threatened to burst forth again. For someone whose whole world was built on an elaborate secret he wasn't very good at keeping his own hidden. Not when they weighed so heavily on his conscience, anyway.

"What?" Simon prompted eventually.

Gene took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What the hell was he going to say? Was he going to admit the truth? Couldn't do that. Not yet, at least. Not when his thoughts were churning around so wildly. He needed to have a clear head before he could do that. But it was so very difficult to fight them back.

"Simon, what your mother did," he began as a bellow from somewhere across the street caught both their attention. Simon's head rose as he looked towards the direction he'd heard the shout coming from.

"What was that?" he wondered.

Gene's line of sight followed, scanning a small row of shops for any kind of disturbance.

"Someone's testing out their vocal chords," he said as he failed to spot anything of note but no sooner had he spoken than a loud alarm started to sound and instinctively both men jumped to their feet.

"What the hell is _that?"_ cried Simon.

"I think it's coming from –" Gene aimed his finger towards a small shop with a classy-looking frontage but before he could get the rest of his sentence out there was a sudden gunshot and a cacophony of screams. Both running on autopilot, Gene and Simon ran towards the source of the commotion; bacon and bread landing, forgotten, on the ground and family secrets forgotten in an instant.

"Why didn't I bring a bloody gun?" Simon muttered, running against the wind.

"Things I've learned today, number one," Gene began as his feet pounded the ground, "if yer going to try to get into heaven, take yer weapon anyway, just in case."

The sound of an out of control car screeching stopped them in their tracks and they dived out of the way as a plain white vehicle swerved wildly around the corner and struck the side of a familiar red car.

"_Fuck!"_ Simon cried, torn between running towards the sound of the gunshot or screaming at the driver, "that's my bloody car!"

"_Was_ your bloody car," Gene tactfully pointed out.

"What the –" Simon realised for the first time that the out of control driver was wearing a mask and as they watched two more men wearing similar disguises ran from the shop, fabric bags in their clutches. Running on instinct Gene dived towards them and a sharply placed elbow in the side of one man's head sent him sprawling to the pavement for long enough that Gene was able to grab his bag and wrench his arm behind his back.

"Forgot how good it felt to clean up me home town a little," he stated as he watched Simon grasping the back of the second man and dragging him to the ground. "Oh bloody hell, Shoebury, not _sitting_ on him… is that the only way you can ever catch someone?"

The sound of a siren was a welcome noise as blue lights approached and cars blocked the driver just as he tried to back out of the road.

"That'll teach you for adding unwanted ventilation to the side of my bloody car!" cried Simon, blissfully unaware of how much like Gene he was starting to sound. Somewhat shocked and disorientated from the speed at which everything had occurred he was relieved when a couple of officers approached and took over his suspect to allow him to stop sitting on the masked man and to get back to his feet and display at least a shred of dignity. He dusted down his trousers, discovering to his horror that there was, indeed, a large patch of bird poo on the back of them and stepped a little shakily towards Gene as he finished handing over his own catch to the local constabulary. "What… in the name of hell… just happened?" he asked.

Gene straightened his shades and glanced around.

"I lost half a bloody bacon butty to the floor, that's what just happened," he said.

Their eyes turned to the shop from which the two masked men had emerged. It seemed as though there was still some kind of commotion taking place inside. They glanced at each other, then began to walk forward.

"Looks like someone missed the party," said Gene.

As they watched, a couple of officers emerged from the shop front dragging a fourth man, a mask upon his face. From behind them another figure emerged; shaking, shocked, confused and clutching a gun that just a few moments earlier had been used to draw blood from flesh and fill his bags with glittering jewels. The figure stopped in the doorway, barely able to stand.

Two sets of eyes fixed firmly on the unexpected sight. Gene felt as though the world stopped turning for a moment as the reality sank in.

"Strike me arse-ways," he murmured, his mouth gaping.

Simon wasn't sure how he stayed upright as his head spun and hi eyes fixed on the unbelievable scene in front of them.

"_Holy fucking shit,"_ his words were like whispers that his shock stole from his lips.

Worlds had crossed and time had bent. Somewhere from within the moment, a shocked pair of eyes stared back as chaos ruled around them. The energy in the air had been electric all damn morning long. Now the crackle of the energy faded and the dust settled on a world that had changed in an instant for everyone involved.


	93. Chapter 48, 2012: Exit

_**A/N: Yaaaaaaahhh…. OK, here we go – I'm uploading two chapters together here. Hold tight -**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 48: 2012**

Alex sat in the side room, politely sipping her tea as she watched Hayley straightening out her skirt and sitting down.

"Right," she said with a sigh, "now we can talk properly."

Alex smiled nervously. She suddenly began to realise just how much was riding on this; on this strange woman, on whether she believed her, on whether she was even interested.

"My name is DI Alex Drake," she began, flinching as she used her old rank. That was one thing she really hated about being back in the real world – she'd worked hard in Gene's world for 16 years and knew she deserved her post. Stepping back into the real world and being a DI again felt like an actual demotion, "I really appreciate you taking time to talk to me today."

"So what can I do to help?" Hayley asked, "I take it this isn't official police business?"

"In a manner of speaking," Alex smiled, "are you aware of the body that was found at Farringfield Green?" She awaited a reaction as the woman frowned, racking her brains, "it was a few years ago now. Two thousand and eight. Some travellers found a body in a shallow grave, The body belonged to a police officer but unfortunately the body was too badly decomposed to ever confirm an identity."

"I'm not sure what that has to do with me," Hayley said a little worriedly.

"Well," Alex placed down her mug and continued, "I've been looking into it, trying to give the PC his identity."

"I would have thought you were still recuperating," Hayley said, "I heard about you on the news."

"Well, this is a sort of a side project of mine while I get back on my feet," Alex said nervously, "you see, one of the things that filtered through while I was unconscious was the news report of the body being discovered. I remembered it when I woke up. It would mean a lot to me to be able to solve the mystery."

Hayley nodded slowly.

"I'm still a bit confused how this relates to me," she said quietly.

"My investigation has focused on one individual," Alex explained, "Gene Hunt. PC Gene Hunt. He disappeared after a week on the job and was never seen again. I… we believe this may be his body and we've been trying to trace any surviving family."

"I'm afraid I don't know very much about my family history," Hayley said a little sheepishly.

"Gene's direct bloodline appears to have died out," Alex continued, "but his grandfather remarried and had another daughter. Gene's aunt; Catherine Cove."

Hayley seemed to freeze for a moment. Her smile became a little distant and nostalgic.

"Yes, she was my grandmother," she said quietly.

Alex nodded slowly.

"She was the next closest blood relative," Alex told her, "and so, her family line are his only remaining relatives."

Hayley looked thoughtful as she took in the news; the fact that she may have been related to the officer who'd been found meant stories she'd watched on the news suddenly came closer to home.

"That's… sad," she said quietly, "if this is true, it's really sad that he's never been given his identity."

Alex nodded and fought back a wave of emotion. This was not the time for tears. She couldn't let the woman see how emotionally invested in this situation she was.

"That's why I want to see him get what he really deserves," she whispered, "recognition. A plaque with his name on. When no one could confirm his identity he was cremated and his ashes were scattered in a memorial garden but he has nothing to state who he is."

"I'd… I'd _like_ to help," Hayley said, still a little overwhelmed and confused, "but I'm not sure what I can really do."

"Because he died so many years ago and no immediate family was identified," Alex began, "they simply stopped searching. They weren't prepared to put the resources in if no one appeared to care. It's my hope that, if you or some of your family come forward and ask for the investigation to be opened up again they will see there _are_ people who want to see the _unknown PC_ named and he will finally have his final resting place marked."

"What would I have to do?" Hayley asked.

Alex wasn't actually sure.

"I…" she hesitated, "I think the first step would be contacting the branch responsible for trying to identify him in the first place. I can help you with that if you'd like."

"Well, I'm not sure what I'd do on my own," Hayley said nervously, "I'd really like to help but this has all come a bit out of the blue. I'm a bit overwhelmed – and confused still. It's not like I'm not interested, but…"

"I know that I've taken you a little by surprise," Alex said apologetically, "and I don't want you to do something you're not comfortable doing. But I really would like to see this young constable getting what he deserves after all these years, so if there is any way you can see yourself helping –"

Hayley nodded slowly. The whole thing had come out of the blue and was quite a shock but she felt herself warming to the friendly woman before her.

"If it will really help to get him identified, I will do it," she said.

Those words hit Alex with all the power of a full-blown heart attack as she felt her chest almost seize up. She'd been so desperate to hear that; to hear someone say that they would help, to get one foot on the ladder that would lead to Gene's name being placed upon that bench and finally seeing him recognised for who he was. A broad smile spread across her face that she couldn't fight and she held her palm to her chest as her heart began to speed up.

"Oh, _thank_ you," she breathed, "Miss Ford, thank you _so_ much. I can't tell you how important this is. _Thank_ you."

"So what do you want me to do?" Hayley asked, "I mean, I'm working right now – I can't just leave."

Alex hesitated. In her heart that was exactly what she wanted the woman to do but she knew that she was already asking a lot. She thought quickly. Kim and Robin had one more day before they had to return to work so that did give her a little leeway.

"Would you be able to come with me to the station tomorrow"? she asked, "we will speak directly to the person who was co-ordinating the search for his identity and set the wheels in motion."

Hayley nodded.

"That will be fine," she said.

Alex breathed a deep sigh of relief and let a warm and thankful smile wash over her face.

"Would it be best for me to meet you here, or…?" she began.

"If you meet me here at ten tomorrow I'll have opened up and will be free for the rest of the day," Hayley nodded.

Alex got to her feel, which felt as though they barely touched the ground. It seemed like she was floating on air.

"Thank you so much, Miss Ford," she said, "I'll look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

As she shook the lady's hand and left in a flurry of excitement her heart truly felt as though it could explode, right there inside of her. It had been a long, difficult journey but finally she was getting somewhere and the next stop, she was certain, would be home.

~xXx~

Kim and Robin attempted to pull themselves out of their state of fear and anxiety as they saw Alex walking back to the car. They tried to make their expressions neutral and focused on finding out how she had managed to get on. As she opened the door and slipped inside she had an air of excitement about her. With a smile she could barely contain she said,

"She's going to help me."

"The owner?" asked Kim.

Alex nodded.

"Hayley Ford," she said, "she's agreed to come with me to the station tomorrow and to request further investigation into the identity of the '_unknown PC'_. I explained that her blood line are his only known surviving relations. She was a little confused but she's going to help get wheels in motion and that's the important thing."

"Alex, you do realise we have to head back to London tomorrow, don't you?" Robin said gently, "we'll have to leave by four. Kim and I have work on Tuesday."

"Yes, I know," Alex told him, "I'm meeting her in the morning and we're going to go and speak to the vaguely helpful gentleman who gave you the papers on Saturday." She looked a little sheepish, "would you possibly come with us?" she asked, putting on an innocent and hopeful face, "it would really help our credibility, you know…"

Robin rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to make pleading faces at me," he said, "You know I'll be there."

"Thank you," Alex smiled, her eyes shining with hope. This was _it. _This really was it; the start of finding her way home. Everything else she'd done so far had been like preparing the foundations and now she was starting to build them up for real.

"Was it difficult to get her on board?" Kim asked.

"Surprisingly, no," said Alex. That had been her main fear. She was addressing a stranger who had no idea who Gene was or about that branch of her family – the thought of asking for her help had been a little daunting. "I think to be fair it was the fact that I'm apparently known as _Miss Two Comas_ and they wish to get Evan to endorse a range of facial hair-related jewellery products that swung it for me though."

Kim shuddered.

"Thanks for that," she mumbled, "like I really needed more nightmares."

As Alex's initial excitement began to fade she noticed that something didn't seem quite right. She bit her lip and looked at Kim and Robin nervously.

"Is… everything OK?" she asked eventually, "you both seem a little… _distant."_

"Everything's fine," Robin told her.

"Just heard a song we don't like on the radio, that's all," Kim said quietly.

Alex wasn't sure what to make of that. Something was definitely amiss but they seemed to want to keep it to themselves. She decided that they would tell her when and if they were ready and she shouldn't push them for details. Eventually she said,

"Well, I suppose rather than waiting here for the rest of the day it's a good time to move on. I have the next place I'd like to visit; the cemetery where Gene's parents were laid to rest."

As she reached for a piece of paper with the details Robin said quickly,

"Actually, do you mind if we wait just a bit?"

Alex wasn't really expecting that.

"Well… of course not," she said with a slight frown, "why?"

"I just need to go in there," Robin nodded his head towards the jewellery shop from which Alex had just emerged. He looked pale and worried. "My watch just stopped. Needs a new battery."

Alex froze for a second, remembering Kim's words at the previous shop. She turned to her, her mouth open to speak even though she wasn't sure what she was going to say. Perhaps commenting on the coincidence or asking if it was a joke but Kim shot Alex a panicked look and slowly shook her head, begging her silent not to say anything. Alex didn't know why but decided there would be plenty of time to ask her while Robin was in the shop.

"I'm… sorry to hear that," she said eventually, "go ahead. We'll wait here."

"Thanks," Robin gave a half-hearted smile, then exchanged a deeply layered glance with Kim. Whatever had happened while she was out of the car, Alex knew that it had been something fairly serious. She watched as Robin kissed Kim's forehead and looked at her with a little concern, then opened the door and stepped out of the car. As the door closed behind him and they watched him trudge to the shop Alex opened her mouth once again, unsure quite what she wanted to say to Kim. She hesitated for a moment before finally beginning,

"Both your watches –"

She stopped talking as Kim shook her head and turned to look at Alex with grim, troubled eyes.

"No Ma'am," she said quietly, "Rob's watch has stopped, but mine hadn't. Not really."

Alex hesitated with a frown.

"So the stalling Robin thing -?" she asked.

Kim looked down. She took a deep breath.

"Was for something else," she mumbled.

"Don't you think after my humiliating bathroom conversation I deserve to be let in on the secret?" She noticed that Kim remained quiet. "Kim? What's going on?"

Kim hesitated. She wasn't altogether sure. Within a few minutes she'd gone from the excitement of planning to propose to hearing song that cast fear into their hearts and then to seeing Robin's brand new watch stopped dead on his wrist.

"I wish I knew, Ma'am," she whispered, "I truly wish I knew."

Alex didn't want to pry too much but knew her curiosity would get the better of her soon and she would have to try asking again before too long. She sat back with a slight sigh, hoping that Robin would return quickly so that they could get back to their journey, then quite suddenly wrinkled up her nose.

"Has Robin farted in here?" she demanded.

~xXx~

Robin wasn't sure what part was getting to him most; the reappearance of the song, the stopping of his watch or the strange energy in the air. It felt a little like the electricity just before a massive thunderstorm on a hot and humid summer's day, but the cold January day suggested he was far from the mark there. He stared at his watch as he approached the shop. It had lasted two weeks without stopping which was a bloody miracle by his standards these days but it still upset him. It had been his favourite Christmas present and he worried that Kim would be upset if it couldn't be repaired. Hell, _he_ was going to be _mortified_ if it couldn't be repaired.

The little bell tinkled as he entered the shop and found it emptier than it had been when Alex visited it a short time earlier. There was still one customer who seemed to be having a crisis of confidence over whether big or small earrings suited her best but aside from that it was almost deserted. There was an older lady at the counter whom Robin approached.

"Good morning," she said.

Robin glanced at the clock display and noticed it had already passed midday some time ago.

"Afternoon," he said, "I wonder if you can help me." He looked sadly at his wrist, then unstrapped his watch. "My watch has stopped. I think it needs a new battery. Can you do that here?"

"Yes, that's no problem at all," the woman told him, reaching out to take it, "It'll be about fifteen minutes. Can you wait or would you rather come back?" 

Robin glanced around and bit his lip nervously.

"I-I'll wait," he said, "there are a few things I'd like to look at while I'm here."

"Alright," said the woman, "I'll just take this through."

Robin watched as she left with his beloved timepiece and then gave a cursory glance to a display of watches. He had visions of becoming some sort of Uri Geller performer if the force ever decided to get rid of him, stopping watches at will. Perhaps he should learn spoon bending, too, he wondered. He pictured leaning against the display of watches and all of them stopping before he realised he was just getting silly and was wasting time. He had more important things to do.

He turned and walked slowly towards a display of rings he'd passed on his way in, his heart starting to turn somersaults in his chest. He couldn't shake the feeing time was running out and he was going to get his foot in the door before it had a chance.

~xXx~

Alex sat flapping air out of the window with her sheet of notes.

"Ma'am, I don't think it was _that_ bad!" Kim felt a little offended on Robin's behalf.

"Says the woman who told Robin to _stick a cork in it _at high volume earlier on in the journey," Alex reminded her.

"I'm allowed to, I'm going out with the daft sod," said Kim with a smile. She watched Alex finally stop flapping at the phantom smell and close the window as the cold air started to make her shiver. She became aware of her stomach growling with increasing persistence and mumbled to it to be quiet.

"If you're hungry there's a café over there," Alex pointed out, "we could get some lunch while we're waiting for Robin to get his battery replaced."

Kim glanced at the café as her stomach clenched with hunger.

"That might not be a bad idea," she said, "but what if Rob comes back out early?"

"We can always bring our food out - there's a bench over there," Alex pointed to a spot nearer to the shop.

"Oh, good idea," Kim agreed. She reached into her pocket to check she had enough money. "Come on, this one's on me."

"As long as there are no baked bean sandwiches in sight, you're on," said Alex.

~xXx~

Robin's eyes scanned the rings. He started with the engagement rings and immediately felt well and truly out of his depth. He didn't have a clue what he was looking for. He didn't know the first thing about women's rings. He didn't really know a great deal about _men's_ rings, either, to be fair but the more he looked the less he found. Kim never really wore traditional jewellery, and he didn't think he was going to find an engagement ring with a dragon on it or one that would pierce straight through her finger.

He sighed as he stood up a little straighter. He was going about this all wrong. What was he doing looking at traditional engagement rings anyway? Kim would want something far more offbeat. Or even a man's ring. She wore men's deodorant and men's shirts, why not a man's ring? They were definitely more her style.

He changed tactic and started to look at some other rings; men's jewellery, wedding bands, other more unusual pieces. He felt like he was definitely on a better track now. He still hadn't found the right one yet but he was certain he would soon, he just had a funny feeling. Kim's perfect ring was waiting there for him to find, and with one last glance to the left, he found it.

"_Bingo,"_ he smiled.

~xXx~

"Horrible stinking coffee," Kim pulled a face as she dropped it in the bin on the way past, "call themselves a café?"

"All you've done for the last two days is complain about coffee," Alex pointed out, "when was the last time you had one that you enjoyed?"

"When it was the last time someone made a decent one," Kim told her. They reached the bench and took a seat, each unwrapping a sandwich and trying to fight off the chill in the air. Alex took a bite, trying not to spill grated cheese and floppy slices of tomato down herself, then after she'd finished her mouthful she turned to Kim.

"So: the shop," she said, raising one eyebrow.

Kim didn't turn around.

"Which one?" she asked.

"You know which one," Alex told her, "I _knew_ you were looking shifty. Come on, spill the beans."

"Aren't beans a bit of a sore point? Kim asked, trying to stall her.

"You know what I mean," Alex raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Kim – if your watch hadn't stopped then what were you doing?"

Kim looked down, her cheeks starting o burn.

"I was buying a ring, alright?" she said awkwardly.

"A ring?" Alex repeated, "I don't think I've ever seen you wearing one."

Kim glanced at Alex sideways.

"It wasn't _for_ me," she said nervously.

"Oh?" Alex frowned a split second before she caught on, _"Ohhh…_" she turned around a little and moved conspiratorially close to Kim, "so you mean…" she paused, "it's for Robin?" she watched Kim nodding slowly. "So you're going to…" she left the question hanging as Kim nodded again.

"Yes, but I don't know how or when so please, _please _don't say anything," she said quickly.

Alex couldn't help being a romantic at heart, nor could she resist getting excited about certain things.

"Of course not, of course I won't," she said with a grin. She watched Kim busying herself with her sandwich, trying to take the focus away from her admission. "So when did you decide to go for it?"

Kim felt a little like a shy teenager. This wasn't familiar territory for her. She'd never enjoyed an abundance of romance through her life and wasn't sure how to handle the interest.

"I don't know, ma'am," she said quietly, "I think I'd already decided a while ago and knew for certain just before we travelled out. Being there, in a jewellery shop, it seemed like fate."

Alex nodded.

"So when are you going to ask him?" she probed.

"I already told you I don't know," said Kim. She put down her sandwich for a moment and sighed, "Ma'am, one step at a time… I'm already feeling out of my depth. I didn't go through this with Linda, we had a business-like meeting and just 'decided' to get married so I don't know how proposals are supposed to go." She paused and looked at Alex, "how did the Guv propose to you?"

Alex leaned back and sighed, a distant smile on her lips.

"Well, he fell down a hole on the way there so he was caked in mud from the waist down," she said.

Kim hesitated.

"I… might give that particular proposal technique a miss," she said, turning her attention back to her sandwich.

Alex shrugged.

"Well it worked for Gene," she smiled.

~xXx~

"Excuse me, sir?"

The voice made Robin jump, so deeply involved was he staring at the ring. He glanced around and saw a woman standing behind him with his watch.

"Hi," he said.

"Sir, I'm very sorry," she began, "I replaced your watch battery but it doesn't seem to have made a difference." She handed it to him carefully, "My name's Hayley Ford, I'm the shop owner. We rarely have an issue like this so I said I would speak to you personally to apologise.

"Oh, that's OK," Robin assured her, even though his heart was sinking, "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"Obviously we won't charge you for the battery," she said, "did you buy the watch here?"

"Hmm?" Robins mind was still on the ring, "Oh, no, it was a Christmas present."

"We do have a send-away watch repair service if you're interested?" Hayley suggested.

Robin shook his head as he began to refasten his dead watch to his wrist.

"That's alright," he said, "it's practically brand new. Hopefully the shop will replace it."

"Well, once again I'm so sorry we were unable to help," Hayley said apologetically.

"It's alright," Robin gave a nervous, crooked smile. He shifted nervously before he realised it was now or never and he just had to go for it. "Actually, though, before I go," he found his voice trembling with nerves, "there's a ring I'm interested in."

"Yes?" Hayley glanced at the display beside him, "which one, sir?"

"This one here," he said, pointing, "the problem is, I'm not sure of her size."

"These are men's rings."

"I know that," said Robin, "but it's perfect."

Hayley was a little unsure but with a shrug and a sigh reached for the ring of keys on her belt, found the right one and unlocked the case.

"Well, take a closer look, sir, but these are not very feminine designs."

Robin gave a distant smile.

"With respect, she's not a very feminine person," he said, just imagining Kim gagging if he bought her a poncey diamond.

Hayley unlocked the cabinet and pulled out the tray. She took the ring from its display and handed it to Robin for a closer look.

"Here it is," she said.

Robin looked at it closely and found himself smiling a little harder. He couldn't fight it. It was perfect, absolutely ideal. He turned it round in his fingers – it wasn't overly big as far as men's rings went but would probably still need resizing.

"If it's too big…?" he began.

"It can be resized by two to three sizes," Hayley told him.

"Excellent," Robin smiled. He gave a nod. "I'll take it then."

Hayley was still somewhat confused by the sale of a very masculine ring to be given to a woman but a sale was a sale and who was she to complain?

"Alright, sir, let's get you a box for this," she said as she relocked the cabinet and led Robin to the counter.

Robin felt butterflies in his stomach, from top to bottom. He shuffled nervously and excitedly on the spot. Suddenly this felt so right, so very, _very_ right. He couldn't fight the smile on his face as he thought about it.

He handed over his card and tapped in his pin number, then took the rather snooty bag with the boxed ring inside it from Hayley. He tried to fold the bag around it the best he could and slipped it into his pocket.

"I'm going to bloody sit on this and scream, aren't I?" he mumbeld to himself, "I'm not going to get to give her a decent proposal because the ring is going to be revealed by a sharp pain through my backside."

"Pardon, sir?" Hayley frowned.

Robin didn't realise he'd spoken aloud.

"Absolutely nothing," He smiled innocently, "thank you for all your help."

"No problem at all," said Hayley, "I'm just sorry we couldn't help with your –"

Robin guessed the last word was 'watch' but he didn't know for certain because it was cut off by a deafening alarm and the movement of three men bursting through from the back of the shop.

Life suddenly switched to slow-mo, and Robin's pulse went up by several notches in an instant.

~xXx~

The sound of the loud alarm, followed by some shouting was enough to make even Kim drop her sandwich.

"Sounds like something's going on," she commented, looking around. She tried to place where the alarm was coming from but it was difficult to tell.

"Which shop is that?" Alex asked, "Or is it the bank?"

"I can't tell," Kim stood up and caned her neck around to see.

"Probably the bank," Alex old her, "it'll be going for ages being a Sunday, until someone comes to disarm it."

~xXx~

_It all happened so fast._

How many times had someone said those words? To Robin there were few sentences that were more accurate. His brain tried to fathom where the three intruders had come from but the deafening alarm was making it difficult to process anything.

As quick as a flash, one of the men thrust two bag sat Hayley.

"_Cash in this one, jewellery in the other_," he demanded, "_and turn that fucking alarm off."_

Another aimed his gun at Robin, then at the other customer who was already in floods of tears.

"_On the floor,"_ he barked, "hands on heads and down on the floor!"

Everything seemed to happen in such a blur. Robin slowly placed his hands on his head and began to sink to the ground, wishing for all he was worth that he had a gun with him. He supposed he wasn't going to get far fighting back with a broken watch. He saw the man with the gun forcing the other customer down to the ground as she screamed and sobbed.

"Down!" he cried, "_down!"_

The third man had a firm grip on the older shop assistant's arm.

"Go and switch off that _fucking alarm,"_ he barked

"I can't do it!" she cried, "only Miss Ford has the combination –" the end of her sentence turned into a scream as the man jammed his elbow hard into the side of her head and knocked her sideways, not quite hard enough to knock her out but hard enough to cause her to cry out and lose her senses for a moment.

No, that was too much. Robin's blood boiled as he saw red. Unable to hold back his fury he forgot about the gun, pushed the barked instructions out of his head and jumped to his feet where he made a grab for the man who'd used his elbow so violently. He grasped his arms and pulled them quickly behind his back, pushing the man against the wall with a thump. Then one loud, deafening noise filled his ears as a single bullet fired from behind him and a searing pain filled his body, starting at his back and slowly filtering through his torso, piece by piece, organ by organ, inch by inch. Finally the pain somewhere in his guts as the whole world slowed right down.

~xXx~

The single gunshot brought Kim and Alex to their feet.

"What the _hell -?"_ Alex hissed, turning to the shop where she could now see people gathering outside. Somewhere in the distance they heard the squeal of tyres, like a vehicle was speeding out of control, while from the doors of the jewellers a man began to emerge clutching a bag.

Kim's heart almost stopped with intense fear as one word left her lips;

"Robin –"

It started as a whisper, but something inside her told her that her sudden and growing fears were not unfounded and it spilled from her a second time, much louder and longer; desperate, a scream, a cry –

"_Robin –"_

Without thinking she started running, racing towards the shop she'd seen him enter just a little earlier and from which now two more men were running. Car tyres were squealing closer and a terrible feeling of darkness enveloped Kim's heart. Clutching her stomach for support Alex found herself following; her instincts for the chase and for upholding the law overriding anything else and the two of them focused on the shop ahead.

The energy in the air was positively electrifying but growing darker by the second.

~xXx~

Time couldn't have moved any more slowly.

All sound ceased to exist. The alarm, the screaming – it all seemed to stop as Robin felt like he had been placed in suspended animation. He could feel the pain and little else as a strange calmness washed over him. He felt his eyes closing and his body slowly collapsing from beneath him as he sank to the floor. There was no fighting the agony. There was no beating the bullet that had made its way through him.

He felt the rough carpet against his cheek as he toppled sideways and lay now against the floor. In the distance he could make out a couple of sounds; vague noises, and voices that he couldn't identify. He thought he heard his name cried repeatedly in a scream; he heard the screeching of car tyres and what seemed to be the noise of an impact as though a vehicle had struck something or someone. Then there was a voice – it was familiar but he couldn't have placed it for the world.

Words that didn't make sense –

'_Not supposed to be –'_

'_This was my –'_

He couldn't understand them, and it was all too difficult to try.

With his final breath he whispered the one word on his mind; the name of the person who'd given him back a love of life, and then the all-encompassing darkness grew too powerful to resist.

It welcomed him with open arms, and in the next instant there was nothing.

.

And then,

_something._


	94. Chapter 48, 1997: Enter

_**A/N: the second of the two chapters I'm posting together -x-**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 48: 1997**

The murmuring vices broke through the vibrant visions; snippets of Robin's life that had knitted together like a movie shown to keep him occupied, like in-flight entertainment. A long string of moments that had shaped his life, each one bringing him further from his past and toward his recent history. As the images died and he became more self-aware the murmuring voices started to increase in clarity and become more defined. He started to make out words, then sentences, despite a loud ringing noise that was threatening to block them out.

He could feel his chin pressed to the ground. That was strange. The last thing he remembered… not that he was quite sure how _much_ he remembered… he was fairly sure that he recalled the feeling of the ground against the _side_ of his face. He remembered pain too; hot, burning pain that had brought him down as it overtook his senses and stole him into a state of absolute darkness. There was no pain now, just an ache in his back from his uncomfortable position on the ground.

He slowly opened his eyes, nervously trying to work out who and where he was. All he could see at that moment was carpet; red and blue speckled carpet and several pairs of feet. He realised slowly that his hands were on his head. Why were his _hands_ on his head? That made no sense at all, but then again not much seemed to anymore.

"_In the bag," _he heard a muffled voice demand, "money, jewellery, watches – none of the shitty ones, the good ones."

With a gasp Robin's memory began to slot back into place. _That's _right; he was caught in the middle of a robbery. He moved his head up quickly as far as it would go considering his strange position and could see movement as bags were quickly filled with finery and funds, but there was so much that didn't make sense. Surely a moment ago there had only been one other customer in the shop? Now there were five or six other innocent people crouching on the floor with their hands on their heads too. And where was the older lady, the one who'd received the elbow in the head? There was no sign of her now – there was a young man in a smart suit and a lady who looked like an older version of the owner… Hayley Ford? The similarity was uncanny, but she had a good few years on the woman who'd been so apologetic about the non-working watch and questioned his taste in rings.

_The ring –_

_Kim?_

_Fuck,_ suddenly a moment of panic ran through Robin. Where was Kim? Was she outside? Was she OK? What if she heard the gunshot and came running to the shop? Oh _god_, was she safe?

_The gunshot –_

That was the moment Robin realised what the pain had been. He'd been shot in the back, but there was no sign of it now. In fact, had a gun been fired at all? He couldn't be sure. What was going on? Was he dreaming or –

"_Come on, that's enough,"_ one of the men shouted, "we've got to get –"

"Oh, you stupid fucking _bitch…" _

Robin was alarmed by that sentence and looked up to see the lady he'd noticed a moment ago reaching for something behind a counter,. What was it? An alarm? There was already one of those going. Some kind of weapon, or –

It didn't seem to matter as a deafening blast sounded and shook Robin through and through. To his horror the faint smell of gunpowder hung in the air and two of the men turned on the third.

"You fucking _moron!_ What did you do that for?"

"We said no shots!"

"She was gonna –"

"Well she's not _'gonna'_ do _anything_ now, is she?" one of the men grasped a bag and tossed it to the one without a weapon, "get out – move it! _Go!"_

Despite everything – the confusion and the strangeness and the utterly inexplicable situation - Robin couldn't fight his instincts. They pulled him up from the ground as the men began to flee and he found himself launching himself at the gunman, grasping him from behind. The physical stuff was the one thing Robin had never been especially adept at before but either his pure fury had given him an extra burst of strength or eight months of gym visits has really paid off because the grasp he had on the man knocked the gun from his hands ashe pulled him to the ground and pinned his hands behind his back.

As he tried to gather his thoughts and draw in his breath he looked down and noticed something that made him out and out panic. Where his shirt and jeans had been just minutes before he now found himself in full uniform. His eyes slowly scanned as much of his own body as he was able to see, shaking and trembling all the while. He felt acid rising from his stomach and his heart began to thump wildly in his chest. He swallowed hard as he looked around and took note of every change and every altered detail; from the hairstyles of the customers to the music he could just about catch snippets of playing while the alarm tried to drown it out.

Now he knew.

A choking sob emerged from his lips and more tried to follow but he held them back, kept them inside. He didn't want to acknowledge even to himself what he knew deep down was happening. He didn't want to knit together the details of the situation. He wanted to stay in blissful ignorance forever.

A bloody impossibility when officers burst in from somewhere around the back of the shop and greeted him with thanks and praise for his capture, though.

"_Good work, sir,"_ someone commented.

He watched two officers cuffing and escorting the gunman out, with one of them instructing Robin to follow with the man's weapon.

_I know where I am._

Robin didn't want to follow. He didn't want to leave the shop. He wanted to stay in there forever and hide. He wanted to pretend that it wasn't happening. But his body went into autopilot and he found himself grasping the gun in his hands, getting back to his feet and slowly, shakily following the officers to the doorway.

_This wasn't supposed to be my time._

His legs were like jelly. He could barely keep them straight. He wasn't even sure how he was still moving. He felt like some kind of zombie as he moved forward, fearing what he was going to find when he reached the end of the carpet and stepped out onto the pavement.

_She was supposed to be coming here. Not me._

He swallowed hard as the brightness of the daylight started to sting his eyes. Clutching the gun like it was some kind of security blanket he willed his feet to move, one step at a time. His head throbbed and his mouth felt dry. This wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.

And there it was; the doorway. No option but to pass through it. Nowhere else to go.

Shocked and scared, he stepped outside. The air that greeted him was as cold and nippy as the air he'd left behind in 2012 but around him so many things had changed. Different shops, different cards, different people –

_The people._

He stopped stock-still, as though his feet were glued to the ground when he saw them. They were staring back at him, and in their eyes he could see their surprise was every bit as strong and overwhelming as his own. He swallowed as he felt himself starting to tremble a little harder. The world was still going on around him yet for Robin it felt as though everything had frozen but his shaking limbs.

There they were; the eyes he had wondered if he would ever look into again. And now, there they were- staring right back into his own. The face that he had spent so many months dreaming of seeing again in more than just a photograph. The man that he'd cried so many tears for, that his heart had broken so badly for, that he had cried and begged and prayed to be reunited, with over and over again.

But all he could do was stand and stare.

_I wanted this so badly._

_For so many months, this was all I thought about. All I dreamed about._

_So now –_

_- Now, why am I just standing here?_

_Why am I not moving?_

…_Why do I want to go home?_

He knew why. Deep down, he knew.

The ring that was no longer in his pocket held his answer.

His heart was split.

Time waits for no man – and it certainly hadn't done for Robin and Simon.

~xXx~

Simon swallowed as he watched Robin, who looked like a terrified rabbit caught the headlights of one of Geoff's old trucks. For the past 14 months he had thought of little else but this day; the day that somewhere, somehow he would look up and find the man he'd loved for almost half his life staring back at him. He'd pictured it, he'd imagined it, he'd dreamed it. He'd played it like a movie, over and over in his mind.

So now that day was here, why was none of it going the way he had always pictured?

_Why isn't he moving?_

He knew Robin had seen him, their eyes had met and their gaze joined but his face looked stricken. Simon had played this through his mind a thousand times, the different _where_s and _why_s and _how_s but it had always ended the same way; two figures running towards each other with elation and joy on their faces as they embrace, holding each other tightly until the sadness and heartache fade away around them. The reality couldn't have been any more different.

"Well what are you bloody waiting for?" Gene's voice and what seemed to be a slightly over-violent thump on the shoulder broke Simon's train of thought, "a bloody invite? You've waited fourteen months for this; get your bony arse over there."

Simon hesitated as he took in the expression on Robin's face. Gene's sarcasm hadn't been too far off the mark. An invitation _was_ what he'd been waiting for; a smile, open arms, a flood of tears, _anything_ but the stillness and the silence. It confused Simon, he couldn't understand it at all. But when it came down to it, however strangely he seemed to be reacting to his arrival back in the world, it was still Robin; still the man he loved and still the one he needed to feel in his arms. Despite his reservations he found his feet moving forward; slowly at first, one step at a time, then he broke into a trot and found Robin closer with every second that passed.

Robin could see Simon moving towards him. He could see the face that had stared back from photos on his wall and pictures on his laptop now once again in the flesh; moving towards him quickly, desperate to reach him and to hold him, desperate to erase the last year or so and start again. Robin could feel his guts twisting more with every step that Simon took. All those months with Kim he'd struggled with the question of where ultimately he would find his heart placed whenever the time came. He remembered Alex asking him that very question, just a few days earlier.

"_But as for what I'd do_," he'd said, _"I don't think that I'll know until… if… that day comes, when I find myself face to face with Simon again." _

That's what he'd told her. That's what he truly believed. And now that he _was_ face to face with Simon once again he realised that he'd been wrong all those months. He had no clearer notion now than he had back in 2012.

The sound of the alarm was still ringing through his ears and he could hear his pulse pounding in his head. All his strength was fading from his body and his heavy, trembling limbs couldn't keep him on his feet any longer. Despite taking a deep breath and making a silent plea to stay on his feet his eyes forced themselves closed and his knees buckled underneath him as the pavement called his name.

~x~

"_Robin!"_

Simon's alarm at the sight of his sudden collapse drove him forward at a faster pace, with Gene following on amid a flood of swearwords behind him.

"Not another one," he mumbled, panting slightly as he caught up with Simon, "that's all you lot ever do when you get here, bloody pass out. Fainting a popular hobby in the twenty first century, is it?"

Simon couldn't even hear Gene's ranting about wimps from the 21st century as he reached Robin and dropped to his knees over him. He whispered his name, staring at the still and silent face before him; the same face he'd woken up to every morning and come home to every night for so very long.

Why did he suddenly feel as though he didn't know him at all?

~xXx~

"Bloody hell, you lot need to stop this _losing consciousness_ crap," Gene mumbled as he dragged Robin's legs across to the bench, "it's only a bit of time travel, it's nothing to get excited about."

"_Gene!"_ Simon cried, gently laying Robin's head and shoulders down on the hard wooden seat, "it's not that easy! I bloody hope one day someone drops something on your head and you find yourself in another world, flat on the floor in shock so you can finally understand."

Gene plonked Robin's legs down and straightened up, rubbing his back.

"I'm getting too old for his," he mumbled.

Simon adjusted Robin's knees to give him enough room to sit by his side.

"So what now? He asked, completely clueless. The appearance of Robin had shaken all sense out of him. He felt weak and he was sure he kept shivering. The cold wasn't even to blame.

"Well, your car is a write-off," Gene pointed out.

Simon folded his arms.

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," he mumbled miserably.

"Bus runs from over there," Gene nodded in one direction, "I'll go and pick up me car. That's if the Shoebury Breathalyzer approves?"

Simon hung his head.

"Gene, believe me, you could down six bottles of scotch right here and now and still have steadier hands than me for driving home." He studied his palms as his hands trembled.

Gene considered taking him up on the six bottles of scotch thing. He was struggling to make sense of what had happened over the last 24 hours.

"Fine," he nodded, "You guard Batman, make sure no one steals his shoes."

Simon watched Gene stomping off to the bus stop, not even wanting to contemplate the kind of fuss that he'd cause on public transport, then turned around and stared at Robin, still deeply unconscious beside him. He felt tears starting to fill his eyes which he tried to wipe away but they didn't seem to want to go anywhere. His lip trembled as he stared at the features he'd missed so deeply, scarcely believing that he was right there beside him.

His eyes scanned him from head to toe as the reality began the long, slow process of sinking in. there was something not quite right that he couldn't put his finger on. Or was it _lots_ of 'somethings'? He found a frown crossing his face as he noted that Robin seemed to have changed so much in what could only have been a short space of time. There was something very different about him. He felt stupid for thinking it but he looked… classy? No, _trendy_. Fashionable, even. It was a subtle thing but very clear to see.

While Robin's hair still flopped over one eye like Simon had seen for so many years the style had been nurtured and developed, more like the kind of thing you would see on an underwear model than on a police chief inspector. To his shock, and slightly to his horror, he felt sure he could see the tiniest touch of eyeliner on his skin too.

His eyes scanned down his body. In nothing but his white uniform shirtsleeves Robin _had_ to be cold, so Simon slipped off his jacket to lay over him. Before he had a chance he could see something strange through the flimsy white material. Simon moved his fingers down against his torso, pressing the cotton closer to his skin and the shadowy hint of extensive body art became clearer to see through it. It made Simon drawback a little in shock. He'd seen one bleedthrough a very long time ago of an older Kim tattooing Robin's shoulder but _these_ designs covered most of his stomach and chest. It didn't make sense, it just didn't.

Before he dropped his jacket onto Robin to keep him warm he became aware that there were other changes to his body. He had already felt beneath his fingers as he pressed against his shirt that his body had gained definition and as his eyes rose to his arms he could see the shape of burgeoning muscles against his sleeves. Where was the skinny, scrawny body that Simon knew as well as the back of his own hand? What had happened to Robin? How could someone he thought he knew so very well have changed so much?

But.

It was still Robin.

And he was still the man Simon loved.

With nervous fingers he reached up and brushed the hair from his face, revealing a pieced eyebrow that Simon hadn't expected in the slightest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had never understood the phrase about water passing under the bridge quite so well before. Now he understood it in heavily illustrated detail. He had so many questions and he wasn't sure he was going to like the answers, but they would have to wait for later. _One step at a time,_ he told himself - the first step being consciousness.

~x~

As he lay stone-still on the bench, his face and his body motionless and peaceful to the outside world, inside Robin's head a nightmare played again and again; his final moments, the gunshot, the pain that burned through his flesh. Would those moments play forever in his mind? Would they haunt him eternally? Was he destined to relive them every time he closed his eyes.

"…_Not supposed to be like this…"_

He heard a voice in the distance of his nightmare; a cry that he'd heard so faintly as he passed from one world into another. He still couldn't place it, even though this time the words were clearer. Then the memory of squealing tyres and a sickening thud brought his nightmare to a halt and his eyes flew open.

Blue eyes were staring back.

"Hello stranger," Simon whispered, his voice shaking tearfully.

The tremble through his body and thumping of his heart was strangely conflicting to the stopped watch on his wrist. He didn't know _when_ he was but he knew _where_ he was. Whatever came next, he couldn't even begin to anticipate. There was only one thought on his mind and it stung him to the core.

_This is even harder than I thought it was ever going to be._

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Aaaaarrrggghhhhhhh….. I feel like I should say something here, or at least I would if I wasn't shedding a tear at the moment… What back when I was writing Strangers When We Meet was supposed to have been the happiest, most heart-warming of chapters (yes, I plan stuff terrifyingly far in advance, I'm a geek when it comes to writing!) ended up being traumatic and heart-breaking to write!**_

_**Sorry for the extremely mean cliffhanger, I really did want to get these chapters up sooner but yesterday was just a horrible write-off of a day and I wasn't able to get anything done at all.**_

_**I'm going to go and have a little cry now…**_


	95. Chapter 49, 1997: Serious Discomfort

**Chapter 49: 1997**

"What's it going to be next?" Gene mumbled to himself as he approached the bench with his brand new wheels, "visit from the Queen? Infestation of goats?"

The last two days had been seven shades of insane. While his head was still scrambled from his intentions to go to the pub being thwarted by people who were determined not to let him make that mistake and his guts were in knots over the revelation that he was more familiar with Simon's mother than he had ever realised, now he'd just witnessed something that had taken him _so_ much by surprise that if he'd been a cartoon character he'd have removed his eyeballs for polishing, just in case he was seeing it incorrectly.

He had to be honest. He wasn't altogether shocked to see Robin appear in his world. There was been many little hints that it was an inevitability, the main one for him being that Robin had been the one to help Alex home the year before. But to come stumbling and shaking out of a jewellery shop in the middle of _Manchester_? It was unbelievable. In fact, it was positively incredible. They'd just _'happened'_ to be waiting outside at the time – that seemed a little strange. That was stretching the limits of coincidence to breaking point. He couldn't shake the feeling that something somewhere had gone a little awry.

He pulled up as close to the bench as he could get and climbed out of the car. He wasn't expecting the look on Simon's face to be so grim or worried. He'd expected maybe showers of rose petals and a love song serenade to take place in his absence. He'd spent more than a year listening to Simon bleating on about missing Robin, so why did he now have a face like Keats when his Wham tape broke?

"Direct taxi to Fenchurch," he said, "keep yer feet off the seats. No eating or drinking in me cab." He waited for Simon and Robin to head in his direction but no one seemed to be moving so with an irritated huff he started to walk slowly towards them instead. Finally, getting the hint Simon stood up looking upset and confused and walked towards Gene, his arms folded and his expression laden with troubles.

"Gene, something's not right," he said quietly, rubbing his arms to try to warm up after surrendering his jacket to Robin.

"It's hard to pinpoint what_ is_ right when someone's just jumped from one world to another," Gene pointed out.

"No, I'm _really_ worried," Simon glanced back at Robin, "the whole time you were gone he was just going in and out."

Gene reeled in horror.

"Information I _don't_ need to know, Shoebury!" he cried.

_"Of consciousness!"_ cried Simon, "for god's sake… in and out of _consciousness_, Gene. Keeps slipping back out cold. Is this normal? I mean, have you ever seen this before? Because everyone I've seen… well, they might faint once but after that they generally stay awake."

Gene looked across at Robin. He couldn't read his expression. He didn't really know what to tell Simon. This wasn't something that _usually_ happened but everyone was different.

"Give him a bit of time, Simon," He began, "lad's had a shock. You remember what it was like when you came back here for an encore. Seem to remember having to drag _you_ into the back of me Fiat when you blacked out, too."

Simon looked down. He wasn't convinced but knew that Gene was right – everyone was different and a return journey to a world such as this one was never an easy one to deal with. Eventually he nodded.

"I suppose so," he said quietly.

Gene nodded towards his car.

"Get in yer taxi," he said, "I'll see if Batman's ready to join us."

"He hasn't said a word yet," Simon said anxiously.

"Maybe I can at least get 'im to tell me to bugger off then," said Gene. He nodded to the car again and watched as Simon started to head towards it. He sighed as he looked at Robin's shattered and despondent face. That wasn't the look he expected to see from someone who'd just been reunited with the love of his life. He didn't know what was going on but it worried him. Stomping over in his direction, he took a deep breath and folded his arms "So have you found use of yer legs again yet, Batman?" he asked, "because I'm not carrying you again."

Robin looked up, somehow not expecting to see Gene beside him. He had zoned out completely and hadn't even noticed him arriving back in his car. Surprisingly he felt himself identifying with Gene. Although he'd only been in his world for three days back after his accident and barely knew him first-hand he suddenly realised that he and Gene were going through a fairly similar thing. He thought about how Gene must have felt when he realised Alex had disappeared and how similar he felt when he realised that he'd been taken away from his life with Kim. His first instinct was to tell Gene that she was alright, that she was trying to get back to him. He wanted him to know how hard she was fighting. He knew he must have looked a sight as his eyes opened wide and he jabbered,

"Alex- she's trying to get back here –"

Gene froze on the spot like someone had pressed pause. Those were the last words he'd been expecting to hear. He wasn't' sure how to handle hearing Alex's name so unexpectedly let alone from someone who had clearly been out there with her throughout the time she'd been missing from his life. He swallowed and took a slight step backward.

_"It speaks,"_ he said, trying to take the emphasis away from the revelation, "thought you'd given up on the talking by the sound of things, Batman."

Robin hadn't taken in a word that Gene had said.

"We've been trying to help her," he said quickly, "she's alright, the _baby's_ alright, she tried so hard to get back… I think something went wrong… I don't think… I think I'm not supposed…"

"Woah, woah, slow yer flapping trap," Gene held up his hand, shaking imperceptivity. He looked around and drew in his breath. "Not here, eh? Not ready to have this talk yet. And not here." He swallowed as he tried to calm himself a little. "We'll talk when we're back in London." He glanced back at the car where Simon was sitting in the back, looking forlornly out the window at Robin. "Now, you'd better get in there." He waited but Robin didn't seem to want to move, or wasn't able to. "You got a problem with riding in classy cars?" Gene sighed and stepped closer. "If I were you I'd get in there and start talking. That boy's been pining over you so hard for the last fourteen months me station's been turned into a lonely hearts club. He's been waiting for this since the day you went home. You going to let him down now?"

The pressure was mounting for Robin and Gene's words weren't exactly helping. He already felt bad enough; there were so many kinds of guilt and sadness floating around in his head that he wasn't sure how to cope. He silently got to his feet, shocked by how unsteady he still felt and walked slowly towards the car where he found himself prodded into the back beside Simon.

"Robin?" Simon's voice was quiet and concerned, "how are you feeling now?"

Robin slowly turned to him but meeting his eye was such a difficult thing to do. It made him feel so confused and guilty all over again that he had to look away. His eyes turned to his wrist where his watch was still stuck just after midday.

"My watch has stopped," his voice was barely above a whisper. He swallowed. "That means I'm dead, doesn't it?"

Simon stared at him. He didn't know what to think any more. He couldn't understand what had changed. Nodding slowly, he said,

"It did for me." He hung his head, "I'm sorry."

He needed to break the cold, uncomfortable pattern of behaviour that Robin was displaying. He couldn't understand why he was acting so strangely when all he'd thought about for months was how wonderful their reunion would be. He reached out and placed his hand over Robin's but to his horror Robin jumped and pulled it back. As Robin finally met his eyes he could see shock and guilt on his face. Robin hadn't meant to react that way, not in the slightest, and it tore his heart in two to see how it affected Simon. But it had been his natural response to the intimate, comforting touch of someone who wasn't Kim. That surprised him, it genuinely did. It also gave him more to think about.

"I'm sorry," he whispered quickly, "I'm sorry, I just… I just had a shock and I'm feeling confused," he laid his hand back in his lap and carefully stared at it to make sure it wouldn't draw away again when Simon reached for it a second time. He knew he was hurting him and he didn't want to do that, not in any way, but this was going to be a very complicated situation to work through, whatever the outcome.

Gene opened the door and placed himself heavily in the driver's seat.

"Shoebury, they're towing your car," he said.

"I know," Simon sighed, "I don't think they're going to be able to do much with it."

"Except laugh at yer collection of Red Dwarf bumper stickers," said Gene. He turned to Robin. "We'll be back in three or four hours," he said, "Want to go to the station first and check me desk for yer papers. Find out what you're supposed to be doing. You got any ID?"

Robin hadn't even thought to check.

"Uh," he reached for his pockets but his hands were still shaking so badly it took him a while to be able to find anything. He pulled out the first thing he could identify. "Got a driver's license." He handed it to Gene over the seat. As Gene opened it and scanned the address details his whole expression changed.

"Bugger," he mumbled.

Robin froze. That didn't sound good.

"What?" he asked worriedly.

Gene handed the license back without looking Robin in the eye.

"You appear to be living at me previous place of residence," he said a little hoarsely. Silence greeted him he realised he'd have to explain further. "Bolly's flat. The one I had to," he cleared his throat, "_vacate_ after neglecting me rent."

Simon looked at him in shock.

"Bloody hell," he said quietly.

Robin hung his head, now more sure than ever that there had been a mistake.

"_She_ was supposed to be here instead of me," he said quietly.

Gene couldn't even begin thinking along those lines. It was too painful to consider.

"Well, it's not the living arrangement I was expecting to find," he said.

Simon turned to Robin, his eyes a little glassy as hurt was starting to bring tears forth.

"I thought you would be living with me," he said quietly.

Robin glanced at him, feeling awkward and desperate.

"I… it's out of my control," he said weakly.

Gene turned back to the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.

"We'll sort this out tomorrow," he said, "Shoebury, you'll be wanting yer privacy. If Batman's happy to hand over his keys I'll move back to me old address. You can play Happy Starbug Families together." Gene had to admit silently that he was glad to have a _get out of jail free_ card for escaping Simon's flat after the revelation that had come forth the night before. He needed time alone to think things through and couldn't have faced the thought of sleeping on the sofa of someone who shared half his DNA without even knowing it.

"That sounds like a good arrangement," Simon said, smiling for the first time since Robin had passed out in front of the shop. He reached for Robin's hand again and pretended he didn't feel him flinch.

Robin hated himself for what he was doing, he truly did. None of it was voluntary, he'd had no idea how he'd find himself responding when 'that day' finally came and he and Simon were reunited, but it certainly wasn't _this_ way. He didn't _want_ to push him away. Hell, when he looked at Simon it wasn't as though he loved him any the less – fifteen years of knowing somebody, many of those intimately, doesn't just disappear. But he would have been lying to himself if he tried to make out that everything was the same as it always was.

He was in love with Kim.

"Well this is fun," Gene's sarcastic tones announced loudly from the front of the car when several minutes had passed in absolute stony silence, "such an atmosphere of joy and celebration. However will we all get back to London without exploding in excitement?" He looked in the rear view mirror at the two men he'd expected to be peeling each other's clothes off by now. He was relieved that they _weren't_ – he was fairly sure he'd need several years of therapy to get over such an occurrence – but he couldn't understand in the slightest what was happening back there.

Even despite the obvious, Robin and Simon just didn't seem to know how to relate to each other. Such a long time had passed that neither knew what to say, or how to even begin to open up communication again. Robin wasn't the only one for whom life had changed beyond compare.

For his part, Simon knew that the time he'd spent in Gene's world without Robin had been fraught with mistakes. He felt a burning in the pit of his stomach as he recalled the very worst of them; his dalliance with Keats. Christ, how was he ever going to admit that to Robin? How was he ever going to explain that away? It wasn't as though he was going to be able to keep it quiet either, he was fairly sure the moment Keats caught wind of the new boy in town he was going to be round to give a point by point description of events. He'd probably have a nice little visual aid lined up too, knowing Keats. He had videos of everything else, after all.

Simon knew he wasn't the same man Robin had left behind, too. As he'd taken in all the changes that Robin displayed on the outside alone his heart sank as he realised how far in the opposite direction he'd been heading. While Robin seemed to have been growing and evolving into someone much stronger, Simon's own life had been one long downward spiral of drink, junk food, pills and depression. While Robin had been growing his muscles, all Simon had grown was the beginnings of a beer belly. Where Robin had filled his body with art, Simon had filled his with tranquilisers.

Simon was used to being the strong one. Despite the shock on his pale face, he could tell that Robin wasn't the weaker one any longer.

"I think a verse of _Ten Green Bottles_ might be appropriate," Gene announced loudly. "Let's _really_ get this party moving."

Simon closed his eyes and sighed.

"Oh, _don't_, Gene," he mumbled, but Gene was already beginning his first verse.

"_Ten green bottles hanging on the wall…"_

"Gene, stop, _please_, I'm getting a headache," Simon rubbed his forehead.

_"Ten green bottles hanging on the wall…"_

"_OK,_ I get the message," Simon snapped, "I'm sorry this isn't a more comfortable car ride. Robin's had a shock –"

"_And if one green bottle should accidentally fall…"_

"Then hopefully it will fall on your head and stop you singing," Simon told him.

Gene narrowed his eyes at Simon in the mirror.

"I can always start again from higher up," he threatened.

Simon shuddered.

"Please don't," he said.

Robin had completely blocked out both the emerging row and Gene's _glorious_ singing. He found his mind going back to his previous trip to Gene's world; to the messages that he'd heard from home. He knew that his watch spoke volumes but he desperately clung to the hope that someone might be out there by his bedside, that he was clinging on to life, that he just might hear a voice begging him to come home.

"Can… can we have the radio on?" he said quietly.

Gene looked at him in the mirror, surprised to hear him speak.

"Found yer voice box again?" he asked, "_good;_ thought I was gonna have to change yer batteries like one of those bloody _wetting_ dolls." He reached out and switched on the radio. "Bloody Spice Girls come on and this is going right back off again."

"I thought you liked them," Simon piped up.

"Only visually," Gene mumbled.

As the radio played away Robin listened carefully for any hint of a message but nothing came through. For several hours stuck in the car, unable to find a way to communicate with Simon without hurting him further, he listened to records, DJs and stupid weather reports but there wasn't a hint of a voice from home. He begged silently to hear a doctor saying that they were removing the bullet or to hear Kim's voice calling him back. Nothing. Nothing and no one. No direct line from 2012 to Robin.

His heart sank more with each moment that passed and by the time they reached London he knew his hope was fading fast. His dead watch taunted him as one tear rolled down his cheek. He might have been back in London but he'd never felt further away from home.

~xXx~

Keats couldn't explain it. There was an energy. It was growing. He'd felt stale and stagnant for some time, as though the constant flow of 'opposite' energy from those at Fenchurch East had stalled when Alex faded away and Gene's heart was no longer in his job. But quite out of the blue he felt energised and ready to put a new plan into action. He'd been focusing far too much on petty little things for some time; he needed to set something major into motion.

He thought about the items he'd been sending Simon and the ignorance of the man; no matter how much evidence he placed in front of him he couldn't seem to make the connections. Well, it was time to stop being subtle and to give Simon a piece of evidence that would slap him around the face like the bloody Tango man.

He picked up his phone and punched in a number, leaning back in his chair and awaiting a voice on the line. The second his call connected a broad smile crossed his face.

"Good afternoon," he beamed, "guess who?" he paused and frowned. "_No_, do I _sound_ bloody female?" he paused again. "That's better. Yes, Jim here. Got a favour to ask you." he scratched the side of his face. "You've been great, you've kept my basement stocked with tapes for years. Always here bang on time too." He sat up a little straighter and dropped his voice. "But I was wondering if you had anything… towards the _other_ side of the spectrum?" he paused as the voice on the line asked him to clarify. "Well, you've got the _final_ moments down in perfect vision. Do you do anything from the… _start_ of someone's life?" he listened again before making a horrified face and almost falling off his chair in revulsion. "Ugh! _No_ that wasn't what I meant! Urgh, I want to keep my lunch down, thank you very much." He shuddered, "no, I'm talking about nine months before that."

His smile began to grow again as he listed to the voice. He nodded smugly and closed his eyes. Now a plan was _definitely_ in progress.

"Fantastic," he said, "I'll make it worth your while, too. Yes, I have names, dates and places. Yes, I'll hold."

He gave the voice on the line all the details that he requested and found himself ending the call with a laugh of elation. This was going to be one tape that would have a definite 18 rating on it. And when it reached its intended recipient he was going to make damn sure that he would be the one sitting back with popcorn to watch the results as they unfolded.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Don't be confused – like poor Robin we're stuck in 1997 for the moment to see what unfolds. Ocean, put your stick away! Don't worry, Alex hasn't been forgotten – I'm sure you all know I put things right – eventually… :D**_

_**For those of you who voted in the poll on my profile – and even if you didn't – I've reset the question so that everyone can answer again because I wanted to see if opinion has changed throughout the story, especially since the result was unbelievably close. The results of both blind polls will be revealed together at the end of the story.**_

_**Go on then, go and vote – give Robin something to smile about for god's sake – before Gene starts singing again!**_


	96. Chapter 50, 1997: She's Trying

**Chapter 50: 1997**

Robin felt lost and out of his depth as he followed Gene and Simon through CID. It was a little disorientating – a lot of it was similar to the last time he'd been in 1995 but parts had been rebuilt following the explosion from the bomb that Arthur Layton had _kindly_ created for Nailer. It also bore some similarities with the modern day CID that he'd grown so used to seeing again, dropping by to find out when Kim was going to lunch or to meet her at the end of the day. It was strange seeing the place in a state of flux, moving between past and present.

"Let's see if yer paperwork's arrived in me absence," Gene said, half to Robin and half to himself, "Let's hope you're actually supposed to be down here and I haven't stolen you from some Mancunian nick."

"I need to go and check on my department," Simon said, reluctant to leave Robin, "I kind of…left in a hurry and I've abandoned it for the last two days. I need to make sure Eddie hasn't killed any toasters." He paused and frowned, "and that none of the toasters have killed Eddie, either." He turned to Robin. "I won't be long," he said, one hand on his shoulder. Robin tried to give him a smile but he knew it was strained. He was trying the best that he could but this was all so complicated and difficult to process.

The door that opened for Gene to allow him past and into his office stayed open for Robin so he nervously followed. The door closed behind him, making him jump a little. Was it automatic or something? The sound of a bottle thumping on the desk brought his attention away from the door and back to Gene.

"Some of this help?" he asked Robin. While he'd taken the good stuff with him when he packed up to leave Gene had left a rougher vintage of scotch lurking in one of the desk drawers, just in case it was needed.

Robin shook his head slowly.

"No, thank you," he said quietly.

Gene made a face.

"Sorry, forgot you're a member of the Lemonade Squad," he said.

Robin gave a distant and slightly guilty laugh.

"Not any more, actually," he admitted. He looked back at Gene, "but I'm not a fan of scotch." He hesitated and chanced a request. "I don't suppose you've got any brandy?"

"Bit too much of a girly choice for me to be keeping in me drawers," Gene shook his head, "sorry."

Robin hadn't really expected him to have any anyway.

"Never mind," he said, "thanks anyway."

Gene nodded to a chair.

"Sit," he said.

Robin did as he was told.

"That's usually _my_ line," he said.

"I suspect that's why you're here," Gene commented as he rummaged around on his desk, "opened a new canine unit recently. Been waiting for someone to take the reins."

Robin felt a little awkward, sitting there while Gene searched for his notes.

"That would make sense," he said quietly.

Gene finally seemed to find what he was looking for and opened up the file.

"There," he said, "Police Chief Inspector Robin Thomas. So you _are_ in the right place and weren't going to be an honorary Manc after all."

"Canine unit?" Robin asked.

Gene nodded as he dropped the file back to his desk.

"About time we had someone like you in uniform," he said, "looks like you've earned this." He held out his hand, "I think you'll do a good job."

Robin couldn't understand what was going on. Certainly a vote of confidence from Gene of all people had been unexpected. He wondered if Gene would be quite so glad to have him at the station if he knew of his half-sibling.

"Thank you," he said quietly, shaking Gene's hand.

Gene took a seat opposite and poured himself a large scotch. He had a feeling he was going to need it. He took a few gulps and gave a satisfied gasp before he placed it back down and looked at him seriously.

"So;" he began, "_Bolly."_ He hesitated. He wasn't sure how much he was ready to know. "Where… _when_ is she?"

Robin looked down,

"Early January, two thousand and twelve," he said quietly.

Gene nodded slowly, taking in the information.

"And how long had she been back?"

"She woke up in October last year," said Robin, "I mean, two thousand and eleven. It was nearly the end of the month."

Gene steeled himself for the reply to his next question.

"How is she?" he asked, "I don't mean whether she's avoiding coughs and colds."

Robin looked at Gene seriously. He was surprised to find his nerves fading. As much as the prospect of a one-to-one conversation with Gene had seemed daunting at the time, now it was happening he found that he didn't feel as intimidated by the man as he had during his last time in his world.

"I won't say she's… OK," he began quietly, "because we both know that's not true. She needs to be back here. She misses you terribly. She misses her life here. She doesn't belong out there any more."

Gene nodded slowly.

"What about her daughter?" he asked.

Robin looked at him grimly.

"She made a choice," he said, "she's chosen you over Molly."

Gene truly hadn't expected that. He had always thought that going back and seeing her daughter again would give her priority. He swallowed and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So why isn't she back here?" he asked.

It was the one question Robin couldn't answer.

"It's not for want of trying," he said quietly, "she's gone through so much to try to get back here. She can't do a _Sam Tyler_, because of Keats."

Gene looked at him in surprise.

"Didn't think that was a name you'd know," he said.

"We saw the building he jumped from," Robin examined, "part of our tour of Manchester."

"And what exactly were you doing in me home town of old?" Gene asked. It was the question that had been bugging him the most.

"Alex is trying to give you your identity," Robin told him quietly, "the _other_ you. I mean…" he trailed off. He wasn't sure this was a subject Gene would be happy to touch upon, "the one at Farringfield Green."

Gene's expression seemed to freeze on his face. He really hadn't expected to hear that. He was glad he'd poured himself a large one because he needed several sips before he was able to get his thoughts together to ask another question.

"in what way, _give me my identity_?" he asked.

"Your body…" Robin began, "they were never able to identify it. Alex has a theory. She believes that if she is able to get you identified and put a name to the _unknown PC_ then you'll be at peace back in the other world. She thinks that's the reason she had to go back; to help you."

"She can help me by getting her bony arse back in my bed," Gene blurted without thinking. He knew it wasn't that simple though. "How exactly is she planning to do this?" he asked.

"She was speaking to this woman," Robin explained, "some… complicated… family tree business… your grandfather remarried and had a daughter, and three generations down, this woman called Hayley agreed to help her get the investigation reopened to your identity."

Gene wasn't quite sure he'd followed but nodded anyway.

"And then what?" he asked.

Robin shook his head slowly.

"Something went wrong," he said quietly, "Sir, we had no idea how Alex was going to actually _physically_ get back here afterwards… she just felt this was the first step to getting here… this woman owns a jewellery shop. A few of them. Alex came out after talking to her and I went in to get my watch fixed and to buy –" he trailed off and flinched. He wasn't ready to think about that yet, let alone talk about it, "something… the next thing I knew there was a robbery and I got a bullet in the back."

"In the _back?"_ Gene repeated, sounding highly outraged, "bloody cowardly bastards."

"The next thing I knew there was a whole different robbery taking place and I was still in the thick of it."

Gene thought about his words. It sounded for all the world as though Alex had been moments away from heading back to his world. That was a painful realisation to make. He lifted his glass to his lips and took another sip before he looked back at Robin.

"What about me baby?" he asked.

Robin gave him a nervous smile.

"Congratulations," he said quietly.

"So she _is_ still pregnant?"

Robin nodded.

"About twenty three… twenty four weeks or something?" he said.

"I, uh," Gene felt himself struggling to continue his sentence but forced himself on, "I got a picture," he said, "Simon found it. Don't know how it got here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scan photo which he laid on the desk and slipped across for Robin to see. Robin's eyes opened wide in shock.

"Alex _lost_ that," he cried, "it disappeared from her drawer." He looked at Gene and bit his lip nervously. "Erm," he began, "I don't suppose anything untoward happened at Christmas… with your turkey… did it?"

Gene's face looked like thunder.

"We do _not_ talk about the turkey," he said firmly.

Robin recalled the extreme trauma he and Kim had gone through with the damn thing on Christmas day and shuddered.

"Agreed," he said.

The door opened and Simon stood just outside, looking vaguely hassled.

"Alright, Shoebury, which appliances are trying to bite yer arse now?"

"There are _waffles_ all over my office," Simon said crossly, "security let one of the little electronic toasting blighters sneak past. It's going to take days to get them all off the walls." He shuddered, "they were coated with syrup."

Robin looked blankly from Simon to Gene and back again. He wondered if this was some kind of Talkie Toaster role-play he wasn't privy to.

"Toasters?" he said weakly.

"Best not to ask, Batman," Gene told him, "just don't offer to make any crumpets for breakfast."

Robin wondered exactly what kind of a world he'd returned to. He decided Gene was right and it was best to remain ignorant.

"Are you ready to go home?"

Simon's voice was gentle and concerned and it made Robin's guilt levels rise quickly as he admitted silently to himself that he really just wanted to stay right where he was and not have to be alone with Simon. And none of that was _Simon's_ fault, not in the slightest, but he wasn't ready for it. He didn't have a lot of choice though.

"Alright," he said quietly, getting to his feet. He glanced at Gene who looked a little annoyed. He supposed there were some questions he hadn't been able to ask yet. He took a deep breath and said, "She'll get back here. I promise."

Gene nodded, even though he wasn't as certain of that as Robin sounded.

"I hope you're right," he said seriously.

Simon chanced an arm around Robin's shoulders to lead him away, relieved that he didn't seem to flinch this time.

"Come on," he said quietly.

Robin knew that whatever happened that evening wasn't going to be easy. Whether honest conversations or a night of silence followed it was going to be uncomfortable and awkward. While there was a part of him that wanted to give Simon that warm, romantic reunion he knew he'd been dreaming of there was also a bigger part of him that knew he should have been asking someone else to share their life with him that night.

That wasn't an easy situation to resolve.


	97. Chapter 51, 1997: Temper Temper

_**A/N: Oops, I accidentally angsted all over the place :-/**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 51: 1997**

"Here we are," Simon turned the key in the door and stepped inside. He switched on the light and stepped back for Robin to pass. It was an extremely surreal moment for Robin to be back in the flat that had been issued to him as his own when he'd arrived in Gene's world for the first time, over a year ago. He'd only spent 3 days there and then awoken back in the real world at which point the flat had transferred into Simon's possession.

"Funny," Robin said quietly, "I was only here a few days but I remembered this place so vividly."

Simon was relieved that Robin had at least started speaking again. The silence had been highly unnerving and just hearing his voice was getting back on the right track.

"After you went home they gave the flat to me," He explained, not even quite sure who 'they' were, "Gene's been staying here for a couple of months so excuse the mess." He knew that at least 50% of the mess was his own but he didn't want Robin to know how poor his standard of housekeeping had become while they'd been separated. Blaming Gene was as good an excuse as any.

"Where is he now?" Robin asked quietly, his eyes still scanning the room, "I thought he needed the keys for the flat I've been given."

"I think he needed a night to come to terms with the thought of going back there," Simon explained, "He's spending the night in his car." he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "To be honest I think he was looking for an excuse for a bit of man/car bonding time." He put down his keys and turned to look at Robin, finally alone. Even though things had been frosty so far and Simon had a feeling that the awkwardness was destined to continue he couldn't do anything other than to smile. As strange and topsy-turvy as the day had been, and as quiet as Robin had been there was one fact that remained, and that was the fact that after waiting 14 months Simon was finally staring into Robin's eyes once again. He had waited so long for this moment. Finally it had arrived.

He stepped closer, hoping that Robin would respond the same but there was a look of anxiety on Robin's face. He stared at him, tried to look into his eyes but he didn't seem to be focussing properly. He could see that Robin's face told the story of someone who had been through a hell of a lot while they were apart. He was scared to find out just what that included.

He laid his hands on Robin's shoulders and looked at him; saw all the changes in him.

"You… you're looking good," he whispered, his eyes moving to Robin's mouth, just wanting to feel their first kiss for fourteen months but Robin drew back, a look of panic in his eyes.

"I'm… I'm tired," he said quickly, already feeling his guilt increasing, "I'm sorry, Simon, I just… I'm so tired, and I'm hungry, can we…" he trailed off, not sure how to make things better, "can we get something to eat? I just…"

"Of course," Simon said quickly, trying not to show how much it hurt to be pushed away, "it's been a long day and a long journey." He took a deep breath and moved away from Robin. Whatever was making him act so distantly he didn't want to make it worse. "I… I don't have much food in… I mean, _you_ were always the cook, I never… never really got the hang of it." Simon felt himself reddening as he thought about just how badly he'd functioned without Robin. He felt ashamed. He was a bit like a teenager who'd just moved out of home for the first time and took all his washing back for his parents to do. "We could get a takeaway? Or I could go to the shop?"

Robin shrugged.

"I don't really mind," he said quietly.

"I'll get a take away then," said Simon who had several on speed dial by now. "What do you fancy?"

Robin didn't really know. He couldn't get his mind onto food. He felt hungry but knew nothing would taste right. Strangely the one thing he couldn't stomach the thought of was baked beans. As he realised that, he frowned a little. He hadn't even _thought_ about baked beans since he arrived in 1997. As he thought about it he realised all the other strange symptoms he'd been having had disappeared too. His ankles showed no signs of swelling, his stomach wasn't bloated, he hadn't needed any urgent toilet stops on the drive down and he hadn't accused _anyone_ of being _really horrible _to him. Trying to work out why, he sank onto the couch, well aware that there was at least one of Gene's socks poking from between the cushions, and rubbed his forehead.

"I'll call for some Chinese then," Simon offered.

Robin nodded slowly.

"OK," he said quietly.

Simon wished that something – _anything_ – would take away the uncomfortable silence. Calling for the take-away, doing some impromptu tidying, laying the table loudly – they were all just ways he tried and failed to fill the quietness. It was driving him crazy. Robin couldn't seem to speak to him without enormous prompting and even then he would only say a few words. He felt enormously relieved when the food arrived. At least eating was a distraction, plus it gave them a neutral source of conversation. However, after asking for the fourteenth time whether Robin preferred the chicken or pork noodles and complimenting the texture of the rice every two minutes for half an hour the food and conversation had both disappeared.

Simon looked at Robin across the table. Now that he'd had some sustenance Robin did at least look as though he had slightly more colour in his cheeks. Simon couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. He was tired of skirting around everything. He'd waited more than a year to have Robin back in his life and he couldn't understand in any way, shape or form why things were so strained between them. He cleared his throat to catch his attention.

"It's hard to believe, isn't it?" he said.

Robin looked at him blankly.

"What is?"

After all those months, suddenly, here we are." Simon hesitated. He looked down for a moment. "When we came here… when we had the accident… Robin, I didn't know I was dead. If I'd known maybe we could have found a way for you to stay, or…" he hesitated and played nervously with his hair. "We… saw you at Alex's bedside. We saw it on the TV in the hospital."

Robin stared at him blankly.

"I… I'm sorry, Simon, I don't have a clue what you're talking about," he shook his head slowly. He couldn't understand what he was saying.

"You were going to take your own life," Simon said quietly.

Robin felt as though his stomach dropped into his shoes. He coughed as though he'd choked on thin air and looked down. He swallowed, trying to think of something to say.

"That was a very long time ago," he said dryly.

"Couldn't have ben that long," Simon said quietly, "For you it was new year's eve, two thousand and ten. Where did you just come from?"

Robin swallowed. He didn't want to get into a conversation about that.

"It _feels_ like a long time ago," he said quietly.

"A year?" Simon pressed, "a little bit more? Little bit less?"

"A lot can happen in a year." Robin said, surprised at the angry tone of his own voice. He hadn't meant to sound like that but he couldn't understand why Simon was pushing it when he felt sure he could see how much it distressed him to think about.

"And what's happened to you, hmm?" Simon cried. Robin finally looked him in the eye. He was looking angry and desperate for answers, "because I feel like I hardly know you. I don't know what to say to you. Whatever I _do_ say, you don't reply." He stared at Robin whose expression was stricken and growing more pained with every word he heard Simon say. "Have you any idea how hard it's been since you woke up? How much I've missed you, day and night?"

"Yes, actually," Robin whispered, "I do. Because I went through the same thing. Except in my case I was arrested and charged with causing your death." He was shaking at the memory of things he'd left in the back of his mind for so long, "Not only had I lost you but all I could see ahead of me was prison. And I couldn't even mourn for you because I knew you were _dead_ but that you were still '_alive'_ – just stuck in a different place. Is it any wonder I was going to kill myself? To get back to you here? To leave behind a life with no one, going nowhere, and be with you again?"

"Then what's changed in a year, Robin?" cried Simon, "shit… if you loved me that much, that you'd take your own life to be with me again, how can you change so much in such a short space of time?" he watched Robin looking down as his eyes started to fill with tears, "what changed?" he hesitated before finally asking the question that terrified him to his core; "is…" he swallowed, "…have you met someone else?" He watched Robin's head hang a little lower and saw his eyes close for just a split second. He watched his lip starting to tremble and caught the sight of one tear dripping onto the table. He felt his mouth fall open involuntarily. The whole world seemed to stop turning. There was a ringing in his ears and he felt as though his heart was starting to splinter in his chest. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

Robin looked up slowly, his eyes red from the unfallen tears. The look on Simon's face just about killed him inside.

"You said you wanted me to be happy," he whispered, "in your letter… you told me you _wanted_ me to meet someone."

"A _year?"_ hissed Simon, "how can you meet someone in a _year?_ How can…how can _anyone_… how can you get _that close_ to someone… close enough to turn the cold tap on every time I come near you… in a _year?"_ he saw Robin's shoulders trembling slightly as he tried to hold back tears. "How can someone wipe away all those years we shared together… after just a year?"

Robin didn't know what he could say. Words were never ging to take away the pain that Simon was feeling, it didn't matter what he said.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "It just… happened."

"_Happened?"_ Simon repeated.

"I felt so guilty for so long," Robin whispered, "we tried to fight it, we both felt like we were betraying you –"

"_We?"_ Simon felt his mouth go very dry, "it's someone I know?" he watched Robin hang his head slowly before nodding. "Someone from work?"

Robin's voice was barely audible.

"Sort of," he whispered.

"And that's wiped out all the years _we've _spent together?" Simon's voice grew cold and hard.

"_No,_ no, of _course_ not, it's not the same thing," Robin cried, "I'll never stop loving you, that's what's made this so hard."

"Hard enough that you can move on after I've been gone for a year?" Simon knew he was being unfair but he felt so hurt and so angry that he couldn't rein in his words.

"You told me you wanted me to be happy," Robin whispered.

"I thought that you might at least have waited a couple of years," Simon cried, knowing full well there was no time limit on his instructions to Robin, whatever he might have been saying now.

"You just said wanted me to meet someone," cried Robin, "and you told _her_ the same thing."

Simon's mind stopped functioning for a moment. It felt like the insides of a carriage clock, all gummed up with superglue. The cogs in his brain ceased to turn and all he could do was to stare and replay Robin's words again and again. Finally, when it felt as though the silence would go on forever he whispered one word:

"_Her?"_

He watched as Robin dropped his eyes to the ground. His face turned every colour of the rainbow and then some. From pure ghostly white to red and even green, he was sure. The sight of tears slowly pooling on the table did little to cool Simon's anger.

"You told her never to 'settle'," Robin's voice was quiet and shaky. He couldn't look Simon in the eye, not only because of his own guilt but because Simon's reactions were scaring him, "you told her to meet someone who made her truly happy."

Simon found himself panting slightly, unable to take in enough breath. He stared at Robin, barely able to keep his temper under wraps as he whispered,

"Who is it?" He waited for a response, trying to deny the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that already knew the answer, "who the _hell_ is it, Robin?"

Robin breathed in deeply; a staggered and anxious breath.

"_Kim,"_ he whispered.

Simon stared on, trembling a little. Why was he doing that? Was it through anger? Shock? He knew his mouth was agape and his eyes were wide and mortified. He desperately wanted Robin to do or say something to take that back; to tell him it was a joke, or a mistake, or that he was lying for some unknown reason but that was a wish Simon wasn't going to see coming true.

"_Kim?"_ he repeated, his own voice low. He watched as Robin nodded slowly, sniffing and wiping the tears that were still falling. Simon was shaking. He couldn't stop himself. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"It just happened," Robin whispered weakly.

"Turning straight doesn't _just happen_," Simon hissed crossly.

"I'm still gay," Robin whispered, "I haven't changed."

"Well excuse me but the fact that you seem to be _sticking it_ in someone of the opposite sex suggests otherwise," Simon couldn't stop himself at all. He never used to have a temper like this. He'd developed it during his time in Gene's world; his time away from Robin. Robin had never seen him reacting this way. He didn't know how to deal with it. "_Kim?"_ Simon repeated, unable to believe it. He stood up and thrust his fingers through his hair, griping hold of it and tugging as though to distract himself from the emotional pain of what he was hearing, "You know, I saw you –"

Robin finally looked up with alarm across his face.

"What?" he whispered, "_how?_ When -?"

"I knew it wasn't just a dream," Simon whispered, "I knew it was more than that. Too vivid. Too real. But I convinced myself that was all it was, because it didn't make any sense… and even if it did, I thought you wouldn't do that to me."

"_Do_ that to you?" Robin cried, "like this was something malicious? Like we were trying to _hurt_ you? Like this was some sort of plan? Is that what you really think?"

"I don't know _what_ to think!" cried Simon, "you finally come back here… finally after all these months I get the one thing I've been dreaming of… and suddenly you've turned –"

"I haven't turned," Robin whispered despondently.

"And of all people, you've been… you've been _shagging_ Kim –"

"You think that's what it is? _'Shagging'?"_

"She was my _best friend_ here, Robin!"

"And you're supposed to love me, and yet you would think _that badly_ of both of us?" Robin couldn't stand it any longer. He got to his feet and stared Simon in the eye. "You think this is some kind of… convenience… _sex_… arrangement?"

"What else am I supposed to think? I _saw_ you going at it on some kind of tattoo table."

Robin froze.

"What?"

"That's right," Simon's eyes were filled with hurt, "the so-called 'dream' I had – there you were, the two of you, going at it for all you were worth."

Robin could feel his heart being crushed by Simon's words.

"I can't believe," he whispered, "that you would actually think that. Of me, _or_ of Kim." he looked away. He couldn't bring himself to look at Simon any longer. "That night," he whispered, "was _special."_

"As special as all the women she went out kissing behind her girlfriend's back while she was here?" Simon hissed, "or the one I found her with on my couch even though she knew how I felt about it? Or what abou tall those times she slunk off with Keats?"

"He _drugged_ her and he _used_ her," Robin screamed, a kind of anger boiling up inside of him that he'd never felt before. He thumped his fist on the table so hard that leftover noodles jumped a mile in the air. "She had no say in it."

"So I believed at the time," cried Simon, "but she's not exactly building up a flawless track record, is she?"

Simon knew then that he'd overstepped the mark. He had never seen Robin's face contort into such an angry state before.

"_Take that back,"_ he hissed.

Simon wasn't used to hearing Robin talk that way either.

"It's true," he hissed, "I always thought she had some kind of… _problem_. She just wants sex, all the time."

"How the fuck _dare_ you say that?" Robin's eyes flashed with anger.

"Oh come on, Robin, I _know_ her," cried Simon.

"Not as well as _I_ do."

"She lived with me for six months."

"She's lived with _me_ for _eight_," Robin hissed.

There was something about that sentence that hurt Simon more than anything else. He stared at Robin, thinking he had misheard.

"What?" he whispered.

Robin swallowed. He was shaking with anger and upset but tried to keep his voice measured.

"We've been living together," he whispered, "for almost eight months."

"_Living together?"_ Simon repeated. He watched Robin hang his head. "And how…" he swallowed. He was about to ask a question he knew he wouldn't like the answer to, "exactly how long had you been together before she…"

Robin bit his lip.

"A couple of months, maybe," he whispered.

Simon felt himself stumbling. He couldn't stay upright any longer. He sank back into his chair and stared.

"A couple of months," he repeated. He swallowed. "We… _we_ were together for _years_, before we…"

Robin nodded slowly.

"I know," he whispered.

"But you're with her for two months and suddenly her shoes are sitting by the door?"

"Boots, actually," Robin whispered, knowing full well that the footwear didn't matter in the slightest but Simon's words were hurting him so much that he tried to focus on something unimportant.

Simon stared at him. He wanted desperately to find another explanation, something that would take the truth away and make it less of a bitter pill to take. He swallowed and whispered,

"OK… OK. So I can… can understand that you were lonely…" he pretended that he didn't see Robin looking at him with shock and indignation on his face, "and that you just wanted someone to keep you company… and I know that sometimes, you know... when you've not been… _with_ anyone for a while," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "you just need…_release…"_

Robin found himself staring at Simon with an anger that he couldn't keep buried.

"_What?"_ he hissed.

"And Kim's focus is all on sex, so I can maybe understand that, for a while, maybe you needed someone to –"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Robin stared at Simon as he dropped back into his chair, "you think _that little_ of me? You think that little of _Kim?_ Someone you've known and are supposed to have loved for more than a decade, and someone you said was your best friend here?"

"Well it's not like you had a bloody future together, is it?" cried Simon, "_You_ said you're still gay and nothing's changed – how are you supposed to get round _that?_ How's _she_ supposed to get round that?"

Robin swallowed,.

"Because," he whispered, "sometimes love is worth the fight."

Simon stared at him.

"_Love?"_ he whispered. The dropping of Robin's eye-line again made Simon's stomach churn with upset. "How… how can you _use_ that word? You barely knew her."

"I think I know her better than I know anyone else," Robin whispered, "even you." he looked back at Simon. "After hearing some of the things you've said I feel like I don't know you at all."

Simon's heart was racing and he didn't know how to calm his temper. He found himself breathing heavily as he stared at Robin. He wanted to lash out, wanted to hurt him and make him feel as bad as _he_ felt right there and then.

"Well maybe it's done you a favour, coming here, "he hissed, "she'd only get bored of you."

Robin could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"What?"

"I don't think you'd be enough for her appetite for long."

Robin stared. He just stared. He could hardly believe what Simon had become. He shook his head very slowly, his face contorted by disgust and contempt for the cruel words that Simon had uttered in desperation.

"You don't know a thing," he whispered.

"I know _you_, and I know _Kim_, and I know enough that she'll get bored and need more than you can give her."

"Oh yeah?" Robin couldn't remember ever feeling this angry. He couldn't remember his blood boiling like this before. He leaned forward and hissed, "what, because I wasn't' enough for _you?_ So Keats was right?" he watched Simon's face freeze exactly as it was.

"What?" he whispered.

Robin was shaking. He'd been trying so hard to hold this back – he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers for one thing, but he couldn't contain his fury any longer.

"Dreams work both ways, Simon," he whispered, "you think you're the only one who's caught a glimpse of the other side of the line? You're wrong. I got front row tickets for your _performance."_ He slowly stood up, watching Simon's face crumble a little more with each word, "I saw everything. I saw what you did, and worse than that I could see that you _wanted_ to. There was no gas and air, was there?" his eyes burned with anger, "it wasn't' like what he did to Kim or Alex. You _wanted_ it. And that's where all this… _'needing release'_ crap has come from, isn't it? Because that's what _you _needed, and it will be easier fr you to deal with your guilt if you think that's what it was like for me and Kim."

"You saw?" Simon still couldn't get past that point.

Robin noticed his eyes were starting to glisten with tears.

"Yeah," he whispered, "I saw. _Twice."_

Simon's eyes closed tightly and he exhaled with a choking sob. _Shit,_ he knew that eventually he'd need to come clean to Robin but he wanted to do it on his own terms, in his own time. He'd never thought for a moment that Robin could have seen into Gene's world or caught a glimpse of what had happened in his absence. He hadn't thought for a moment that he might already know.

"_Robin,"_ he whispered weakly. He didn't know what else to say. He tried again and again but there were no words to excuse what he'd done.

"I saw you bent over that bed," Robin whispered, "I heard everything he said. The things he said about _us_. How I was never enough for you, that you always took the reins, that it was always down to you… I heard every last damn word."

"It's not true," Simon whispered.

"I saw everything!"

"I mean what he _thinks!"_ cried Simon, "it's never been true. You _know_ that… you know you're all I ever wanted."

"Apart from a night of rough sex with Jim Keats," Robin hissed.

"I was drunk, and I was depressed," Simon cried, "I missed you so much –"

"So you went for the next best thing, did you?" Robin hissed angrily. He stood up so fast that the chair fell over and he marched from the kitchen at speed.

"Wait, where are you going?" cried Simon, scrambling to his feet.

"Out," cried Robin, "anywhere."

"We need to sort this out –" Simon protested but Robin cut him off with a stare.

"You think we can sort _anything_ out by screaming at each other?" he cried. He tried to take a deep breath but his anger stopped him from cooling down. "I need some air. We both need some space."

"I've had fourteen _months_ of space!" cried Simon, "I want _you."_

Robin stared at him. He shook his head slowly.

"If I stay here right now we'll just keep tearing each other apart," he whispered, "I don't want that." he paused. "_You_ don't want that." He watched Simon looking down. "I think we both need some space," he whispered."

Simon wanted to argue; to disagree with him, to beg him to stay and sort things out but he knew Robin was right. With the temper Simon had developed over the last year and a far stronger, more assertive Robin than Simon had ever seen before, to carry on the fight would only lead to more pain for them both. Eventually he nodded slowly. Robin's logic had no flaws. Simon could see that. They needed time apart to come to terms with what they'd learnt.

"Fine," he whispered.

Robin turned and slowly walked to the door with his coat in his hand. With a last glance back at Simon he left the flat, not knowing where he was going to go or what he was going to do. He knew that these had been conversations that they would need to have sooner or later and they were never going to be easy but they'd been even more painful than he could have ever imagined.

Just hours earlier there as a ring in his pocket and his whole future stretched ahead of him. Now the past had trapped him in a heart-breaking situation

"_Oi, Batman."_

Robin froze. There was only one person likely to be calling him that. He wasn't really in the mood for fending off Gene Hunt-style insults. He slowly turned around and found the black Aston Martin parked a few paces behind him. He'd marched straight past it without even noticing.

"What are you doing parked there?" he frowned, "and… why are you wearing sunglasses when it's pitch black outside?"

"They go with the car," Gene shrugged as though that explained everything.

Robin was too tired to debate that point.

"Fine," he sighed.

"Where are you going? Night-time tour of the city?"

Robin closed his eyes and sighed.

"I'm not in the mood," he mumbled, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He began to walk away but the opening and closing of a car door brought his attention back to Gene.

"Oi," his cross voice called after him, "call me paranoid but you seem to be letting off an air of misery."

Robin turned around. After certain allegations Kim and Alex had thrown his way earlier he thought Gene was accusing him of farting and was about to give him a mouthful but quickly realised what he meant. He closed his eyes and gave a deep and hefty sigh.

"I just needed some air," he said, "that's all."

"Need a drink, more like," said Gene

Robin sighed.

"I told you, I'm not a fan of scotch," he said.

"Restocked me bar earlier," said Gene. He nodded down the road, "station's only down there. Closer than the offy."

Robin hesitated. He couldn't understand why Gene was being so insistent at first, but realised they hadn't really finished their conversation earlier. There were bound to be more questions for him to answer about Alex and the baby. Eventually he nodded and took a step back towards the car.

"Alright," he said, "just reassure me that the toaster… waffle… attack thing isn't a regular occurrence in nineties Fenchurch East."

"No waffles in my office," Gene assured him.

Reluctantly Robin nodded and followed Gene back to the station. So much for getting some air and clearing his head. There were going to be more deep conversations to come.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter was so dark and depressing, unfortunately that was never going to be an easy conversation for Simon and Robin to have, it wouldn't have been realistic to write it any other way with all that they've both been through while they were apart and the way they've changed. Much less doom and gloom in the next chapter, I promise!**_


	98. Chapter 52, 1997: Brandy Man

**Chapter 52: 1997**

Robin was still feeling shaky and drained from his argument with Simon as he followed Gene through CID. The lights on the checkerboard ceiling lit up one by one as they passed by. He wasn't altogether sure what he was even doing there if he was honest. After the angry words he'd been exchanging he should have told Gene that he wasn't up for a heavy conversation. It was too late now though. He followed Gene through to his office, the door closing behind them, and watched him head to his filing cabinet.

"Brandy man, weren't you?" he asked, pulling a bottle out of the drawer.

The gesture took Robin by surprise. He hadn't expected Gene to purchase a bottle for him, especially knowing the 'girly' stance that he'd already taken on that particular spirit.

"That's right," he said. He watched Gene placing a glass on the table and filling it for him before pushing it in his direction. "Thanks," he said quietly. "You didn't have to… I mean, I wasn't expecting you to restock your bar for me."

"Got to celebrate you leaving the lemonade brigade," Gene commented. He returned to the drawer to find the scotch.

"I discovered I quite like champagne too," Robin commented hopefully.

Gene gave him a withering look.

"Don't push it, Batman," he said.

Despite himself, Robin gave a half smile.

"Sorry," he said. He picked up his glass and took a sip, closing his eyes for a moment. The warm liquid was greatly appreciated as it slipped down his throat, numbing a little of the pain. He looked up to see Gene nodding towards the chair and took a seat.

"Something important I forgot to say earlier," he told Robin.

Robin looked at him nervously.

"What?" he asked, expecting it to be something sarcastic or unpleasant, but to his surprise Gene sat down, looked him straight in the eye and said,

"Thank you."

Robin hesitated.

"What for?" he asked.

"Taking care of Alex," said Gene, "twice."

Robin hadn't expected a thank-you. He didn't really need one – he gave friendship unconditionally, but he still appreciated it.

"I wasn't going to leave her to fend for herself," he said quietly, "once you've been here… things are never the same. You need to be with people who understand or you go crazy."

Gene nodded slowly.

"You sent her back, the last time," he said. He could see from the look on Robin's face that this was something he still had difficulty understanding, let alone dealing with, "You helped her get back where she belonged. Thank you for that."

Robin looked down into his glass. He wasn't sure what to say to that.

"I… I didn't know what I was doing at the time," he said quietly, "I just did what felt right. I didn't understand that I was sending her home, I just… just did what I felt I was supposed to do."

Gene nodded again.

"That's how we all start out, Robin," he said, "we just do what we feel like we're supposed to do. And we find we're helping people get where they need to go." He paused. "Not usually on the other side of the line though."

"You didn't call me Batman," Robin observed.

"Slip of the tongue," Gene mumbled, reaching for his scotch.

Robin shuffled nervously.

"I get the feeling there were other things you needed to know," he said, "about Alex. Things you didn't get the chance to ask earlier."

Gene nodded. His expression was serious and focused.

"You didn't really answer my question when I asked how she was," he said.

Robin lifted his glass and took a sip.

"It's not an easy one to answer," he admitted, "Sir, you know Alex better than anyone, you know how strong she is. She misses you, she needs to be back here, this is where her life is now and she would never be happy to stay back in the real world. But…" he shrugged, "she's tough. _You_ know that. She's had to fight very hard to regain her strength and her health after the coma so that she can start the fight to get back to you. She's never lost faith, not for a moment. I don't think I'd have her determination." He gave a firm nod. "She's going to get back here, because she's the most bloody minded person I've ever met and she won't take no for an answer, even from fate."

Gene nodded.

"That's Drakey," he agreed. He paused for a moment and ran a finger around his glass as he tried to work out what to ask next. "The baby," he began, "the pregnancy… is she coping OK?"

"Better than _I_ did," Robin mumbled, thinking about the hysterical pregnancy symptoms that had sent him off in floods of tears on numerous occasions.

"What?"

"Sorry?" Robin cleared his throat, "never mind. I zoned out there. Sorry." He took a deep breath. "She's doing really well. The baby's strong, too. She's got to be a fighter to claw her way to the future from the nineties, hasn't she?"

Gene raised an eyebrow.

_"She?"_ he asked.

Robin hesitated.

"Bollocks," he said, "I don't know if I was supposed to reveal that."

"It's a girl?"

Robin nodded.

"Yes," he said quietly, "Alex found out at the scan. The one you've got the picture of."

Gene's lips wobbled slightly as they threatened a smile. He straightened them out and looked back at Robin.

"I'm going to be overrun with bloody women, all queuing for the bathroom in the morning," he said. He thought for a few moments before he asked, "What happened when she woke up… when they found out Bols was up the spout?"

Robin flinched. It wasn't the happiest of memories.

"The hospital went mad," he said, "She'd been in a coma since February and was suddenly three or four months gone in October. They went crazy with the DNA testing, assuming someone had -" he shook his head crossly. Thoughts of the familial DNA match came to mind and he glanced nervously at Gene. That wasn't something he was prepared to get into just yet. "Alex coped with it well," he assured him, "she doesn't take any crap, you know that."

Gene did indeed know that, although it didn't stop him from worrying about her.

"Is there anything else that you need to tell me?" he asked, "anything about Alex?"

Robin sighed.

"Only that she'll get back here somehow," he said seriously, "I know that it might be hard to believe but she will. She came so close today, and I don't know why but I… I'm fairly sure I ended up here by mistake. She's going to keep on fighting until she finds a way."

Gene nodded, trying to take everything in. He knew he'd still worry until the day she found her way home but it helped to know that she was being so bloody minded about things and determined to get back to him.

"I appreciate your honesty," he said, "and I know she appreciates everything you've done for her."

"It was the least I could do," Robin said honestly, worrying that he sounded overly corny.

Gene drank some scotch and studied Robin's expression as the conversation faltered and his mind became clearly occupied by other matters. He sat up straight and folded his arms.

"Alright, Batman," he began, "Now you've helped set me mind at rest about a few things are you going to tell me what's wrong between you and lover-boy?"

Robin really didn't want to go into that. He stared into his drink and said quietly,

"Nothing. It's just been a shock, coming back."

"Bollocks," said Gene, "things were so frosty in the car I thought I was watching the Winter Olympics." He saw Robin hanging his head a little. "And the face you had on you when you walked past me car, I thought someone had just assassinated Mulder and Scully, you looked so bloody miserable. What's the matter, reunion not going well? Been so long you've forgotten where to stick it?"

Robin scowled and slammed down his glass.

"I'm not in the mood for this," he said, getting to his feet.

"Sit down, Batman," sighed Gene. He nodded to the brandy. "Don't let that go to waste." He watched Robin as he hesitated. "Every other word out of Shoebury's trap has been about you for the last year and a bit. I was expecting flurries of rose petals and white doves perching on yer shoulders when the pair of you were reunited. A blind bat with a bag on his head could see something wasn't right." He watched as Robin's expression became fraught and troubled. He slowly sat back down and turned back to the glass before him. "So what was it?"

"What was what?" Robin asked quietly.

"The mystery _thing_ that's happened between then and now," said Gene, "something's changed. Found out he's got an embarrassing middle name? Didn't he leave you his Red Dwarf autograph collection in his will?" He could see Robin becoming increasingly wound up as he spoke. "So it's the _other_ thing then?" he asked, "you've found yerself another bloke."

Robin's eyes rose in a slight state of panic. He met Gene's stare and swallowed.

"Sort of," he whispered, "how… how did you know?"

"Couldn't think of anything else that was going to stop you performing a romantic duet with the previous love of yer life upon your return," said Gene. He noticed Robin looking increasingly uncomfortable. "So what's the score then? Is it serious?"

Robin hesitated for a moment, before nodding slowly and staring into his glass.

"Very," he whispered.

"You told him yet?"

Robin bit his lip, trying to hold back the emotions that were threatening to spill over.

"Why do you think I had '_that_' face on me?" he mumbled.

"Thought you and Simon were two peas in a pod," Gene commented. He waited for Robin to say something but he stayed silent and stared into his glass. "So what happened? One minute Bolly's telling me you're pining away for him back in two thousand and bollocks while you're helping her give the beardy one the run around, the next you turn up here and Simon's yesterday's chip paper."

"That's unfair," Robin told him crossly.

"So what happened, then? Some tall dark stranger sweep you off your feet?"

Robin chewed ferociously on his lip.

"Sort of reverse that and you'll be closer," he whispered.

"A short blonde one?" frowned Gene. He didn't feel as though he was getting anywhere but the expression on Robin's face was making him more curious all the time. "You going to at least give me a name?"

Robin stared at his brandy, then downed the rest in one go. He gasped a little for breath, waited for the stinging sensation in his throat to fade and then looked back at Gene.

"I should probably give you a gender first," he said quietly.

Gene stared at him as though he was talking Greek.

"You've well and truly lost me," he said.

Robin looked around for the bottle, reached for it and toped up his glass. He took another big gulp and steeled himself before he turned back to Gene.

"It's Kim," he whispered, and just to make sure that Gene didn't misunderstand he added, "Kim Stringer."

He looked anxiously at Gene, waiting his reaction but for several moments he looked to be frozen. Robin was on the verge of checking with a mirror to see if he was breathing when he finally asked,

"When you arrived here did we lose a few months? Only it sounds like it's April Fool's Day already."

"Oh, I _knew_ this was a bad idea," Robin hissed crossly, getting to his feet again.

"Batman, sit _down,"_ Gene demanded.

"I've already been through hell with Simon tonight, going over this," Robin said crossly, "I can't face more crap."

"Sit down," Gene repeated. He watched and waited as Robin hesitated and tried to decide what to do, then finally sat back down. "I'm sure you can excuse me for thinking me ears needed unclogging," said Gene.

Robin looked down. He knew that it was hard to believe, let alone to understand, but he didn't feel strong enough to take anymore hassle over his relationship for one night. As though trying to explain it wasn't bad enough his heart was broken in two as it began to sink in that he had been separated from Kim by the line between life and death; the one that he couldn't cross. His watch served as a reminder that he was no longer a part of the living world, but he couldn't bring himself to take it off. It was his last link with Kim.

"Look," he began quietly, "I know it's weird, I know it's strange, I know it's unbelievable. I've already been through this a hundred times. It's like coming out in reverse, except that nothing's changed for me. I'm still gay. Love doesn't always respect your preferences though."

Somehow that sentence made it easier for Gene to understand. He knew the circumstances were very different but he felt fairly sure that he hadn't ticked any of the boxes Alex would have listed as her '_preferences'_ when they first met, except for gender. And yet, some people are just supposed to be together - no matter how strange the situation.

"Well," he lifted his glass, "Stringer's a damned sight more of a man than yer last boyfriend, I'll oive you that. Never known anyone with balls like hers. Metaphorically speaking."

Despite himself Robin had to give a small laugh. It was true. He'd seen Kim in action. He'd seen how many people she'd reduced to jibbering wrecks during investigations. And that was just the other detectives.

"You've got that right," he said quietly.

Gene rubbed his forehead and downed the rest of his scotch, trying to take in what Robin had told him.

"Bloody hell, you and Stringer," he said, "how the hell did you tame that one?"

"I didn't _tame_ her!" cried Robin. He shook his head. "I wouldn't _want_ to tame her." He hung his head as an overwhelming feeling of sadness came over him, "she's perfect."

"Bloody hell, you _have_ got it bad," Gene commented. He looked at Robin seriously. "So where does this leave Simon?" he saw Robin's expression grow even darker.

"I don't know, Sir," he said quietly, "you know what the hardest part of my relationship with Kim is? Not the fact that she's the wrong sex but the fact that I knew Simon was still out there, and one day I'd be here too. We were together for so long, it's not like I stopped loving him, or ever will." He shook his head slowly, "but with Kim, we're just so…" he wasn't sure he felt comfortable talking about something so personal with someone he hardly knew. He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I need to work this out for myself."

"Who else are you going to talk to? The Fenchurch Relationship Elves?" Gene sighed, "and stop calling me sir, you make me feel like a bloody PE teacher."

"Sorry," Robin sighed.

Gene refilled his glass and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Robin seriously and said,

"I might not be the world's leading authority in conducting successful relationships. But there's one thing I've learnt the hard way, and that's to make the most of what you've got at any given time." He looked a little pained as he continued, "don't drag yer heels because you never know when you're going to lose it."

Robin looked down, nodding slowly.

"Yeah, I get that," he said, a note of bitterness in his voice, "believe me, that's what I was _trying_ to do."

"By spending yer first night fighting?"

"I meant with Kim, not Simon."

Gene closed his eyes.

"I think me head's going to explode," he said.

Robin took his glass and drank a lot of brandy _very_ quickly.

"You know what I did just before I got shot?"

"Wet yer pants?" Gene guessed.

Robin ignored that.

"I just bought a ring," he said, "I was going to propose to Kim. Tonight." He looked at the clock. It was getting on for nine. "Right now."

Gene let out his breath slowly.

"_Jesus,"_ he said, "well, that's yer first mistake, right there. As a whole we don't have a good track record with surviving more than a day after someone makes a proposal. Or just buying a ring. Seems to be a death sentence."

"Well I bloody know that _now_, don't I?" cried Robin. He closed his eyes. "And to think I was worried about people saying we were rushing things. Turns out I left it too late."

Gene couldn't help but feel his loyalties split. He didn't want to see Simon hurt but Robin's situation was heart-breaking too.

"I'm sorry," he said with a sigh, "I suppose you've already learned the same lesson that I did. But it goes both ways, you know. If you and Simon still have – you know," gene still wasn't exactly comfortable talking about certain matters and he cleared his throat, "_feelings _and whatnot, don't leave it too late to make up yer mind. Make the most of the time you've got while you can. Things change too fast."

Both men fell silent for a few moments, drinking quietly and trying to sort through their own thoughts. Finally Robin realised something.

"Gene?" he said."

"What?"

Robin bit his lip.

"You asked me what I was doing in Manchester," he began, "but you didn't tell me what _you_ were doing there."

Gene studied his glass rather intently. It was easier than looking Robin in the eye.

"Almost took the easy way out," he said, "I'd had enough of going through the daily grind without me better half. I went for last orders." He glanced at Robin. "How much do you know about moving on? About the pub?"

"I pretty much know how things work," he said quietly, "Kim and Alex have filled in a lot of blanks."

Gene gave a slightly irritated laugh into his glass.

"Blanks," he repeated, "that's one thing I apparently don't have to worry about."

Robin stared at him cluelessly, trying to work out what he meant. Eventually he just had to say,

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Gene breathed in deeply and let his breath back out slowly. He wasn't sure he should be saying anything, let alone to someone who'd been back in the nineties for all of half a day but the secret was killing him inside. The choice was either to talk to someone or to let the scotch do the talking for a second night and he had only _just_ managed to get rid of the end of his hangover. Keeping his eyes on the floor, eventually he said with a sigh,

"It turns out…" he closed his eyes, "I may have a son."

Robin froze, his pulse starting to speed up.

"You know?" he whispered.

Gene looked up at him in shock.

"_You_ know?"

Robin nodded slowly.

"Is it true?" he whispered.

Gene rubbed his eye roughly.

"If you mean did I manage to accidentally _bonk_ Simon's mother," he began eloquently, "then yes, it's true." He shook his head. "But whether Simon… is _mine…"_ he quickly downed the rest of his drink, "I can't be sure."

Robin closed his eyes. Why the hell had this fallen to him? Wasn't this supposed to be Alex's job?

"You can," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Robin looked at him somewhat sympathetically. He didn't know how Gene was going to take the news.

"When the hospital ran the DNA tests on Alex's baby they drew a blank," he began quietly, "as you would expect. When they couldn't find any full matches at all on the DNA database they started running familial matches."

"Meaning?"

"They were looking for close relatives," Robin explained, "only one match came up."

Gene stared into his empty glass.

"Simon," he said. It wasn't a question; he already knew the answer.

Robin nodded.

"The tests showed that Simon was most likely a direct descendant of the person who fathered Alex's baby," Robin said quietly, "they went storming off to Simon's family to test his father." He flinched, "well, his… not _quite_ father. Simon doesn't share any DNA at all with Paul. That's… Mister Shoebury…"

"I guessed that much," Gene rolled his eyes. Suddenly the impact of Robin's words struck him like a lorry. _"Shit,"_ he put his head in his hands and tried to breathe in deeply. Until that point there was always a chance that sharing an illicit night with Mrs Shoebury was as far as it went. Apparently he'd contributed more to Simon's family than a case for marriage guidance. A sudden realisation came over him and with anxious eyes he looked at Robin. "Alex… what did she..." he wasn't even sure what he was asking, "Is she…" he hesitated, "is she disowning me for sowing some oats in the Shoebury patch?"

"No," Robin shook his head, "No, not at all, don't even worry about that."

"She can't be thrilled about the news though," he said dryly.

"It was a shock, there's no denying that," said Robin, "a shock to _all_ of us. But you can talk to her about it when she comes home. Which she will."

Gene stared at the bottle. It was calling his name. He poured himself another glass and stared at his reflection.

"So what do I do now, hmm?" he asked, "do I keep it zipped or do I tell Simon I've contributed more to him than half last month's rent?"

"I can't answer that," Robin gave a helpless shrug, "I'm sorry. That's got to be your decision."

Gene reached for his glass and hoped that the scotch would help him make the decision even if Robin wouldn't.

"What a bloody mess," he mumbled, "all because of one night, twenty years ago."

Robin thought briefly of his own hidden DNA discovery and shuddered.

"We all have secrets," he said quietly.

He hung his head as he realised that was one more truth, still to emerge. Whatever would happen between him and Simon from there on in he was going to have to tell him at some point - unless Keats had done so already. With the devil it was impossible to know.

He wished, not for the first time, that he could go back to earlier that day, stay in the car, leave the watch and the ring for later and see Alex heading on her way instead. As far as crossed wires went, that was a pretty severe case. He wished he knew what was happening on the other side of the line, whether Kim was coping, whether Alex was still fighting to get back – but once again messages failed to find him.

With every moment that passed he knew a little more certainly that the bullet had sealed his fate, his question for Kim remaining forever unasked and his heart breaking a little more all the time.


	99. Chapter 53, 1997: Video Nasties

_**A/N: This would have been posted about seven hours ago… but my laptop ate the damn chapter so here it is for the second time, grr! I think Geoff scrubbed it away with his loofah. Or maybe it was the Beardfic that did it. Anyway, here it is. Forgive any mistakes, I'm totally kaput! P.S. 'loofah' does not appear to be in my spellcheck!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 53: 1997**

It was strange how grateful Robin ended up feeling that Gene had stopped him in his tracks when he'd left Simon's flat that night. He knew if he'd carried on walking or if he'd taken a different route and not passed Gene's car then he'd have just ended up freezing half to death for an hour and going back feeling worse than he had at the start. As it was, talking some things over with Gene gave him the chance to cool down, to work through a few things in his own mind and to stay a safe distance from Simon for some time. He didn't want to go back too soon and end up in anther fight. He also had to admit that he'd needed the brandy.

Eventually he knew he couldn't delay the inevitable for much longer and he reluctantly made his way back to the flat. His return was delayed somewhat when he realised he didn't have any keys and had to go back and borrow a set from Gene, but he finally entered the flat to find it dark and quiet. Was Simon even there? He wasn't sure.

He tiptoed through to the bedroom and found Simon still and silent in bed. Either he was already asleep or pretending to be so that they didn't need to talk. Either way was fine by Robin. He didn't think it would be a good idea to try to work through their argument after the amount of brandy he'd put away in Gene's office.

"Goodnight, Simon," he whispered as he closed the door. He wasn't sure why he did it, he just felt the need to say _something_. With Simon in bed, he made his way to the couch and crashed out across it. It wasn't the most comfortable place he'd ever slept and he was fairly sure he'd fall off at some point but it would do for now. There were blankets and a pillow draped over the back, which Gene had been using. They smelt a bit of scotch but that was to be expected, he supposed. He did his best to get comfortable but he wasn't used to sleeping on his own. That was when it really and truly hit him.

He closed his eyes as he laid there. There were tears falling now but he didn't bother wiping them away. There was no one to see anyway. He still expected to feel Kim's body pressed against his, to catch the scent of her shampoo, to open his eyes and see colourful art across her skin. He shook his head bitterly, wondering why they'd been given such a short time together. Knowing that they'd become so close, so quickly and then torn apart with equal speed was one of the cruellest parts.

Despite the brandy pulling down his eyelids like shutters on a shop front he didn't want to go to sleep. He was afraid of spending the night on his own. He was afraid of what might happen in his dreams. He looked around for the remote control and found it on the floor so he switched on the TV and tried to search for something to leave on in the background but early 1997 didn't seem to be the best time for television. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more there was to be depressed about.

"Fuck," he groaned, "channel five starts in April, and Red Dwarf series seven begins in a couple of weeks!" He shuddered. "That was harrowing enough the first time."

Eventually the alcohol, the long journey and the trauma of the day conspired to drag him into sleep; a sleep littered with vivid images and thoughts that burned him inside. He already had a feeling that the nightmares would be out in force. They were not in the habit of disappointing somebody.

~xXx~

Simon peered cautiously into the lounge and found Robin completely out for the count on the sofa. _Good_, he thought. He didn't want to start the day with another fight. While he knew they couldn't put off the inevitable forever he felt as though they needed another day's space between the before they tried to resolve some of the angry words they'd exchanged the night before.

He shook his head slightly as he stared at Robin. Peeking out from the top of the blanket that kept him warm he could see part of one of his tattoos, the one he'd caught a bleedthrough of more than a year before. He found the changes in Robin unnerving; it was as though he'd become a different person.

He turned and quietly left the room, then finished getting ready for work and managed to sneak out as stealthily as possible. He'd have to get some breakfast on the way, he decided. He didn't get very far though when he spotted a familiar Aston Martin beside the road and sighed. Apparently Gene hadn't strayed far that night. He peered through the fogged-up window and could see Gene fast asleep in the back, his mouth wide open and a snore so loud that it penetrated the closed windows and rattled the metal of the car.

He knocked loudly against the foggy glass and watched as Gene jumped a mile, sat up, hit his head on the door along the way and turned to glare at whoever had disturbed him. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or angered to find it was only Simon. He lowered the window and peered out, hair sticking up at all angles with his shades half hanging off his face.

"You in the habit of giving people concussion?" he barked, rubbing the bump emerging on his head.

"Sorry," Simon said apologetically. He wrinkled up his nose as the smell of stale scotch began to filter out of the car. "Bloody hell, Gene, how much did you down last night?"

"I had a small nightcap after a difficult roadtrip," Gene mumbled, unsure whether his throbbing head was caused by the alcohol or the concussion, "and besides, I needed to share some bonding time with me new wheels. Alcohol is a very important part of the procedure."

"Whatever," Simon sighed. He'd had enough of trying to deal with a hungover Gene for one week already. "Look, I'm getting breakfast before I go to work. Do you want anything?"

"A small canteen worth of bacon sandwiches wouldn't go amiss," said Gene.

"Right," Simon nodded, turning to walk away.

"And _lattes,"_ Gene called after him, _"lots_ of lattes."

_"Fine,"_ he hard Simon's voice call back from the distance.

Gene drew his head back into the car from the cold air and closed the window. He leaned back and closed his eyes as the reason for his previous night's alcohol overload came back to him. For the second night in a row the scotch was his ally against a discovery that he couldn't even _begin_ to contemplate, except that now he'd had the truth confirmed.

"_Simon's mine,"_ he mumbled with his head in his hands. He shook his head slowly, trying to deal with the impact of the discovery again. Every time he forgot about it for a little while it seemed to come back with twice as much force the next time it entered his mind.

"Bolly, where the hell are you when I need you?" he mumbled, rubbing his face roughly like he could get rid of some of his confusion that way, "where are you with yer psychiatry and yer annoying _talking-things-through-until-your-head-swivels_ bollocks?" he stared out of the window at the station down the road, "because I could probably do with some of that right about now."

He tried to psyche himself up for a new day a Fenchurch East. Two days earlier he'd thought that he had left the building for the final time. He hadn't anticipated anything halting him on his way to the pub. The fact that he was back was something he had to mentally adjust to. Now he had to find a way to get back his roar.

~xXx~

There might have been just the _tiniest_ bit of a hangover throbbing above one eye. Alright, it was definitely a hangover. But he was sure he'd had worse so he would survive. It took a few moments for Robin to get his bearings and work out where the hell he was. The moment the memory of the day before came back to him it was like being hit by a bullet all over again, this time one straight to the heart.

He sat up and shrugged off the blanket, putting his head in his hands. All around him a different year and a different world were waiting for him to make his contribution but in his heart all he wanted to do was to crawl back under the blanket, go to sleep and wake up in his bed at home. The flat was silent all but for a slightly over-exuberant bird tweeting outside, a loud clock ticking in the kitchen and the sound of Simon's guinea pigs chewing at their cage. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on roughly, then tiptoed to the door of the bedroom to check that his suspicions were right. He nodded as he found the room empty. Simon had already left. He breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't ready to tackle another fight yet.

He felt as though he was intruding. It certainly didn't feel like 'home', no matter what his still watch might have told him. He slumped through to the kitchen and flipped down the switch on the kettle. Some strong coffee was definitely in order before he tried tackling work. He'd heard a lot about the popularity of lattes in nineties Fenchurch East but suspected he needed something a bit stronger to get him going that morning.

As he approached the cupboard to find something that might vaguely resemble breakfast he switched on the radio, hoping that someone might have a message for him; just a few words to give him back a spark of hope, but between Toni Braxton warbling _Unbreak My heart_ and an annoying DJ who was trying to give away tickets to something no one wanted to see in a competition no one wanted to enter he was out of luck.

He found some corn flakes which weren't exactly his breakfast of choice but had less mould on them than the rice krispies he'd discovered first so he didn't have a lot of choice. He felt awkward as he sat down to eat them. There had been a time not so long ago that he'd have felt at home anywhere that Simon was. Now he couldn't have felt more out of place if he tried.

It was strange to note that he wasn't being bothered by hysterical morning sickness, nor had he needed to get up in the night for emergency toilet trips. He was still as confused about why he'd been through that now as he was when it was going on. Maybe Kim and Alex had been right; maybe all it had been was some kind of physical manifestation of his grief from Kim's miscarriages brought on by Alex's situation. He was quite glad now that Kim had never gotten around to making that doctor's appointment for him. A least that was one embarrassment he'd avoided.

Eventually he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. He left his bowl and cup in the sink, stopped the DJ mid-ramble with a flick of the switch and left the flat. He turned and began to walk towards the station. The black Aston Martin had moved about fifty feet since he'd last seen it the night before, now parked directly outside the station as opposed to nearer the flat. He sighed and shook his head, wondering if Gene's shades were going to be a permanent fixture with the new car. He realised that there was probably one other thing he needed to tell Gene. If he was relieved to know that Alex and the baby were doing OK then Robin was fairly sure he'd be thrilled to know that the Fiat was alive and well too.

He felt a strange creeping sensation down his back and froze, mid-step. He couldn't explain it. He knew it was a cold day but the shivers came from somewhere inside of him. Eventually he turned around slowly and realised just why that feeling had crept over him. A fair distance away stood a man in a long, dark coat. Even from so far he was certain he saw the smirk on his face. Panic and anger struck Robin at the same moment as flashes of their fight in Alex's hospital room came back to him and involuntarily he flinched and pulled his coat closer around him, feeling as though he needed to mask his scars a little more. Kim had disguised his flesh wounds with her beautiful designs but the ones in his head were still raw.

To his horror and resentment he watched the bespectacled man raise one hand on a mocking wave and he spun around quickly. He didn't want to see that figure any longer. Not that he had ever wanted to see him in the first place. He turned back to the station and began to walk a little faster – suddenly there was a very bad smell in the air.

~xXx~

Gene carried the box back to his office and sat it on his desk.

"I hate bloody unpacking," he mumbled as he began to fish out the items he'd put away just a few days earlier. Little by little the contents of the box depleted and his desk filled up again. Finally he unpacked his scotch - the _good_ stuff. Excellent. _Now_ he felt as though he was back in his rightful place.

"Here's your bacon and latte-fest."

Simon's less than enthusiastic tones halted Gene's final stages of unpacking. He couldn't quite look at Simon so he pretended to be having trouble fitting all his belongings back in the drawers instead.

"Appreciate that," he said brusquely, "didn't feel like sampling the cuisine from the canteen."

"Is there anything else you want," Simon asked, "because I have about four hundred waffles to prise off my walls and ceiling."

"Think I can survive," Gene told him, still fiddling about with items that really weren't giving him that much trouble. He waited until he heard Simon's footsteps leave the room before he backed out from the drawer and let out a sigh of relief. He still didn't know what to do about Simon. He knew it was only going to get harder to tell him the longer he took about it but he was struggling to deal with it himself. Throwing an angry – not to mention currently love-scorned – Simon into the mix wasn't going to help matters.

"Gene?"

Gene turned to the door to see a slightly overwhelmed Robin standing there.

_Great – here's the other one. Just what I need._

"Morning, Batman," he sighed. He noticed Robin looked fairly pale. "Brandy taking its toll?" he asked.

Robin's slight hangover had already disappeared and he wasn't sure what Gene meant.

"No," he frowned, "I'm fine, why?"

"You've got a pastier face than the woman with the fat arse in the canteen when her flour bag exploded," Gene explained.

Robin closed his eyes momentarily. He supposed a brush with the devil, even from a distance, was enough to turn anyone a ghostly shade.

"Feeling the strain of being back, that's all," he said quietly, "that's why I'm _here_… I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go, exactly."

"Uniform," Gene told him.

"Yeah, I gathered that much," Robin sighed, "_where_ in uniform?"

"Just follow the trail of dog slobber and I'm sure you'll find it," Gene told him.

Robin turned around and started to pace away.

"Thanks, very helpful," he mumbled.

"_Batman,"_ Gene called him back. Robin stopped mid-pace and slowly turned around.

"What?"

"These living arrangements," Gene began. He saw Robin become a little uncomfortable. "Need to know what's happening. Because if you're going to give me yer keys and I move back into Bolly's domain then I don't want to live with all yer geek-clutter so you'll have to come and remove it." he paused. "But if anyone's going to end up sleeping on Simon's couch it might as well be me. You need to make up your mind."

Robin nodded. He knew that. He still didn't have an answer though.

"I think I need to try to talk to Simon," he said quietly, "somehow." He swallowed, not relishing that idea. "Can you give me a day?"

"I'll ask me good friend parked out the front if she'll put up with me for one more night," said Gene.

Robin nodded.

"Thanks," he said. He breathed in deeply as he turned and left to head down to uniform for the first day on a job he didn't want.

~xXx~

Simon wasn't sure of the standard procedure for removing sticky, syrup-clad waffles from the walls of a room. He had visited the canteen and procured number of items of cutlery for the occasion but he wasn't sure that they were going to help him all that much. A couple of spatulas, a wooden spoon and what transpired to be a potato masher he'd picked up by mistake probably weren't the most effective armoury. He slumped down the corridor and turned through the doorway where he found he had a visitor.

"Well well well, Simon, someone's made a _meal_ of your office, haven't they?" Keats adjusted his glasses and laughed at his own joke.

Simon froze as a glare formed upon his face. He found himself shaking slightly in anger as he focused on the unwanted guest.

"How the hell did you get in?" he demanded.

Keats ignored the question.

"I promise I won't waffle on," he said.

"Don't give up your day job," Simon snapped as he pushed past him and laid his kitchenware out on the desk.

"A funny thing happened to me on the way here today," Keats told him amiably.

"Oh yeah? Wasn't hearing one of your own jokes then," Simon snapped.

"Guess who I saw heading out of your flat?" Keats smirked.

Simon froze on the spot again. It took him a couple of moments to work out what to do. Eventually he turned slowly to Keats, a glare fixed upon his face, and took a step towards him.

"You stay away from Robin," he hissed, "You hear me?"

"I wasn't expecting to see him back so soon," Keats continued, oblivious to Simon's words, "have you had time to fill him in on our enjoyable interlude yet or shall I do the honours?"

"I mean it," Simon hissed, "stay away from Robin, and stay away from me."

Keats held up his hands and started to move towards the door.

"Well if that's how you treat all your guests I might as well go," he sighed, "no point hanging around where I'm not wanted." He paused and laughed as a waffle fell from the ceiling at the wrong moment and landed square on Simon's head. "Suits you, Simon. You should wear hats more often."

"Just get out!" Simon yelled, removing the waffle from his head and throwing it at Keats as he walked out of the room.

Keats was still laughing as he disappeared down the corridor and well out of sight. Simon found himself shaking as he tried to cool down. The sight of Keats standing around so nonchalantly in his office had been far too much. _Way_ too much to deal with. He had enough on his plate, he didn't need to deal with Keats sticking his nose in every few minutes too. At last he'd been fairly easy to get rid of – for now. He supposed that he would be back before too long though.

He decided to take his anger out on the waffles so he pulled out his chair and moved it beside the wall, then went to pick up a spatula to help him begin scraping some of the dangerous ceiling-based items from their high position. As he was trying to choose between the metal or the plastic utensils his eyes were drawn to something sitting on the other side of the desk. He hadn't noticed it before; Keats had been obscuring it when he first came in the room, but his eyes were drawn to it now. In a plain cardboard case sat a video tape; _Keats's trademark,_ Simon thought to himself. _Tapes everywhere._ What was this one going to be?

He thought there was a fair chance that it was going to be a tape of his worst mistake. He had a horrible feeling that videos of their encounter were going to be popping up all over the place now that Keats knew Robin was around. But as he thought more about it he realised that didn't make sense. If Keats spotted Robin for the first time when he was already on his way to the station then he must have already had the tape. While he still felt certain that Keats would have a tape of their libidinous acts somewhere he couldn't imagine he'd have been carrying it around for no reason.

"So what's on this then?" Simon mumbled to himself, slipping the tape from its case.

On the side of the tape was a sticker, meticulously placed in the centre of the cassette. He wouldn't have been surprised if Keats had used a set square and a spirit level amongst other items to line the damn thing up correctly. That would just about be his level. He didn't wonder about it for too long though. The writing on the label caught his eye.

"_7__th__ June 1977"_

He'd seen that date recently and now it was forever ingrained into his mind. The last time he saw it was on the case of an audio tape; his mother's interview at the hands of Gene. Simon hung his head a little as he thought about his confrontation with Gene over it. He knew he'd been a little unfair. He still felt guilty for that. He didn't need to see a live action version of the interview to make things worse.

Before Simon could discard the tape he noticed something bizarre on the bottom of the label. It confused him at first, being a small drawing that wasn't the most artistic thing that he had ever seen. It took him a while to realise that it was a crudely drawn picture of a smiling sperm heading towards what was presumably an egg but might have been some sort of hubcap, it was impossible to be sure. Immediately he felt his blood starting to boil. Keats had clearly taken great delight in sending him a collection of items over the last few weeks detailing his mother's arrest and the infidelity that followed. He'd been building up a picture for Simon like the most unwanted jigsaw he'd ever receive and now he'd delivered the final piece. Simon knew it. Whatever was on that tape he knew it wasn't the interview. It was something far more X-rated.

The tape almost burned his hands. Just staring at it, he knew how powerful it was. Where Keats got hold of such things Simon had no idea, but he knew for certain that his video collection was a dangerous thing indeed.

He knew that watching it would lead to nothing but misery. He also knew that he would never be able to put this whole terrible business out of his mind until the last of the blanks had been filled in. The dilemma weighted heavily upon him and he knew there was no easy answer.

"_Shit,"_ he whispered as he stared at the tape in his hands. How could one video present such a damned dilemma? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _"Now or never," _he murmured quietly to himself.

Maybe it was time to find out who he really was.


	100. Chapter 54, 1997: Barking Mad

**Chapter 54: 1997**

Robin really didn't want to be there. Not in any sense. He didn't want to be in that year, he didn't want to be in that world and he especially didn't want to be in the brand-new canine unit that still smelt of fresh paint with the six hand-picked, brand new dog handlers who were trying and failing to handle their brand new dogs. Yes, he could see the irony; his one complaint back home about his promotion had been that he'd been less hands-on with the actual canine division. But back home the unit wasn't decorated with posters bearing the slogan _"Be Nice To Your Dog And He Won't Bite Your Leg Off."_

Rumour had it that Gene had created the winning slogan in a station-wide competition. Robin could well believe that.

He looked down at the list of names before him, then back at the six officers awaiting the moment they were able to put their initial training into action. It had been a long time since Robin had been directly involved with people starting out at that level and it felt a little like just going through the motions as he ran through an age-old spiel that he hadn't used in a while.

"…You've already had a taste of the training," he said, none too sure what their training had actually involved since he'd been thrown in right at the deep end, "and now the hard work truly begins. These dogs are your friends and your allies. They will become your loyal partners and protectors, and you must provide for them the same in return." He pulled out a pen and removed the lid, which at least three of the dogs attempted to eat. _Bloody hell,_ had they even _started_ training? No wonder they needed someone to quickly take charge. Checking he still had all his fingers, Robin turned his attention back to the names before him. "First of all, I just need to find out who everybody is. So when I say your name just raise a hand and tell me you're here, OK?" he felt a little like a school teacher as he read out the first name; "David Arbour?"

He looked up as a young man with over-gelled hair raised a hand.

"Yes, Sir," he said.

Robin checked off the name and looked back at his paper.

"Tammy Crocker?"

"Here," a young officer piped up.

Robin was feeling more like a teacher by the moment and sighed. His eyes returned to the paper.

"James Ford?"

"Yes, sir."

_Definitely_ a teacher. He sighed. He was on the verge of giving a detention to a dog who wouldn't stop eating the table leg. He took a deep breath and prepared to read out the next name.

"Sharon –" he froze; the name in front of him sounding horribly familiar. It felt a little like being slapped around the face to see it. He swallowed and tried to get his mouth working again, "Uh, Sharon Granger," he finished reading, shaking just a little.

"Yes, sir," he watched a young brunette raise her hand.

Oh _god,_ why was that name so familiar? It couldn't have been… that would have just been too cruel. Even with everything life had thrown at him in the past twenty four hours this was just…

"_Sir? Is everything OK?"_

Robin wasn't even sure which of the officers had spoken. It could even have been one of the dogs for all he knew. He cleared his throat, mumbled an apology about his pen not working properly and somehow made it through the rest of the list. His first day on the job had managed to get off to an unexpected start, and one that he didn't know how to handle.

~xXx~

Gene glared at Terry juggling confiscated counterfeit trainers and shook his head.

"Like I was never away," he mumbled. He did question for a moment why he was back. Then he remembered a scan photo and an interview tape and understood.

He was about to pull down the blinds and shut out the chaos for a moment but he could hear pounding footsteps and that was never a good sign. With a sigh he waited for the inevitable chaos and sure enough a flustered Robin screeched to a halt in the doorway. He shut the door and peered around as though to check for people hiding, then looked at Gene with urgent eyes.

"Gene," he panted, "Sharon Granger." He tried to catch his breath before he continued, "_Please_ tell me Sharon Granger is not '_Shaz'."_ He hoped for a fast response but Gene looked as though he was trying to choose which of a collection of put-downs to answer that with. "_Please_ tell me Sharron Granger is _not Shaz_, the only other person that Kim has _ever_ been in love with in her life, _ever_?"

_Oh, OK._ That clarified things. Gene understood now. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead which was still throbbing a little from the previous night's scotch, despite the bacon and lattes.

"Sorry, Batman," he began, "I could tell you that but me nose would grow a few inches."

Robin closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

_"Shit,"_ he whispered. That wasn't fair. That _really_ wasn't fair. "You couldn't have _warned_ me?"

"I didn't know Granger had decided to become a bloody furry, did I?" cried Gene, "I only deal with members of the force who have two legs maximum!"

"Shit," Robin cursed again. He shook his head as he rubbed his eyes. In truth he felt a lot more threatened by the short relationship Kim had with Shaz in 1996 than he _ever_ had by her marriage to Linda. To Robin, the fear of Kim going back to the nineties and wanting to be with Shaz again was equal to Kim's fear that Robin would choose to be with Simon again. "Well this is going to make life _so_ comfortable and easy going, isn't it?"

Gene looked grimly at Robin.

"Look, I honestly didn't know," he said, "but now that we've found out she's gone barking –"

"Oh _no,_ not the dog jokes again," Robin remembered those from his last spell in the nineties.

"- there's something you should probably know." Gene scratched at his head for a moment. "Granger… she thinks Kim is dead."

Robin froze. That wasn't a sentence he expected to hear.

"She what?"

"Stringer was stabbed," Gene explained, "when she went home it was moments after half of Fenchurch saw blood pouring from her guts. We had to cover up her disappearance somehow and everyone already thought she'd bitten the big one." He scratched his nose. "Had a funeral for her and everything."

"A _what?"_ Robin couldn't quite take it in.

"It's nothing we haven't done before," Gene explained, "when someone moves on or finds their way home we need to find ways to explain them away."

"But a _funeral?"_ cried Robin.

"Not the first time," Gene explained again, "Simon's got a gravestone out there somewhere, too."

Robin found his vocabulary reduced to four letter words again.

"_Shit,"_ he sighed.

Gene stepped closer and dropped his voice.

"Look, Robin," he began, "Granger had only just started here when Stringer went home. Sounds like you don't need me to tell you the two of them were… _close._ Like something you'd pick up off the top shelf of the video club."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Robin mumbled.

"Shaz didn't take it well," Gene told him, "thught about leaving. Almost did."

"And now she's joined the canine unit," Robin sighed. Well, _that_ wasn't going to be awkward at all, was it?

"Look, she thinks Kim's six feet below the daffodils," Gene reminded him, "she's not going to challenge you to a bloody duel for her 'and in marriage."

"I'm scared I'm going to put my foot in it," Robin said quietly, "say something I shouldn't."

"You get used to keeping it zipped," Gene told him.

"In the meanwhile?" Robin sighed.

Gene's eyes scanned his desk. He picked up a roll of sellotape and threw it to Robin.

"You could always try this?" he suggested.

Before Robin could give an angry response the door flew open so fast that it hit the wall and almost rebounded. Through the doorway came a flying punch towards Gene's face, which struck him in the eye at such speed and force that neither he nor Robin could even see who was behind it for several seconds.

"_So apparently you are more familiar with my mother than I realised."_

Simon's voice was louder and angrier than either Gene or Robin had ever heard and his fists were certainly more eager than they'd ever been. As soon as Robin got his bearings enough to work out what was going on he grabbed for Simon's shoulders, which took a couple of attempts as he was already making a second lunge towards Gene.

"_Simon,"_ he cried_, "Stop –"_ He got a better grasp and pulled him backwards, terrified that the anger he was displaying would see Gene losing an eye or a tooth. Or, for that matter, his head.

"So how _was_ she, Gene?" Simon spat angrily. He tried to shrug Robin's hold away from his shoulders but despite the extra height advantage Simon had over him he no longer had more strength, "was it worth it?"

"_Simon,"_ Robin cried, "_stop_ this. Just stop," he grasped him under the arms to pull him back more effective.

"Get _off_ me," Simon snapped, trying to struggle free of his grasp. He focused on Gene; his eye already showing a change of colour and there was a stricken look upon his face. "So when were you going to tell me you were the one who took her home that night?" he continued, snapping and snarling like one of the untrained dogs in the new canine unit , "You _were_ going to tell me, right? Because it's not like I just went two hundred miles to stop you making a big fucking mistake. It's not like I paid for two B and B rooms, or spent ages listening to you drone on and on about how empty your life here is without Alex. It's not like I've given you a _home_ for the last few months or taken the bottle out your hand every time you look like you're going to start heading into the dangerous territory of trying to start a relationship with the bloody pot plants again."

Gene stared at the angry face in front of him as Simon finally struggled free of Robin's grip, angrily telling him that he was OK and to let him go. He reached up to his eye and covered the imminent bruising slightly with his hand.

"Simon," he began in a quiet but serious tone, "I didn't know. Not until you showed me me own handwriting on that tape."

"The tape," Simon gave a mocking laugh. A little of his fury had died out now – the punch had helped with that – but he was nowhere near finished that. "Funny, because I have a _new_ tape to show you now. A video this time. Maybe this will jog your memory further." He pulled the video from his jacket pocket and stormed over to the combi TV in the corner of the room. As he jammed the tape inside, Robin tried to pull him back again.

"Simon, just _stop_ this," he begged, "you're not going to get anywhere like this. You need to cool it –"

"I need to show Gene this _marvellous_ little film," Simon hissed, "it's not usually my kind of video, but this one's good." He glanced at Gene as the tape began to play. He'd expected Gene to do more than just stand there – to protest, to tell him to stop the tape, to give him some sort of explanation – anything. But Gene knew that Simon needed to get the anger out of his system before he'd even begin to listen.

"It's aright, Batman, leave him," he said flatly.

"We'll skip the first part," Simon said as the tape began right in the middle of the action, "it's only some comedy of some lardy alcoholic, too pissed to get his pants off properly and falling flat on his face. I'm surprised you could even manage it after that."

"You don't need to do this, Simon," Gene said quietly, "it's not like I don't know what's coming up."

"Oh, but some of the dialogue is just _classic_," Simon hissed. The quality of the tape wasn't fantastic but the image of Gene was clear enough as he crawled on top of the slim, curly-haired woman whose resemblance to Simon was plain to see. Although Robin had only ever seen her in photographs he knew full well who it was.

"Simon, just stop the tape," he urged.

"No, Gene likes the odd bit of porn, don't you, Gene?" Simon glared at him, remembering only too well when Gene had made him rewatch, to his horror, the security tape from the top of the hospital roof over a year ago. He'd almost kissed Keats – the devil had brought that _stare_ into play – but nothing actually happened. Didn't stop Gene from angrily talking Simon through it step by step, though – and now not only were the tables turned but Gene's own starring role was part of a far more in-depth adventure. Simon wasn't going to let him get away with that.

"I can't look," Robin protested, despite the fact that he also couldn't seem to look away. He half-closed his eyes as some sort of pathetic compromise and wished that Simon would come to his senses and simply stop the tape.

"Now, as you can see," Simon hissed angrily, "_somehow_ my mum manages to ignore the stained and tasteless bedspread and the nicotine-stained curtains. You must have had _something_. What was it? Not a six-pack, I can see that."

"I was a bit stockier back in those days," Gene mumbled, focusing on the unimportant to take the emphasis off of what he was doing to Simon's mother's chest.

"Must have been the size of your _bottle_ then," Simon hissed.

"I think you should stop the tape now," Robin's request was quieter and more measured this time.

"No, not until we've all seen the best part," Simon told him, reaching out to turn up the volume, "just listen to this cracking piece of scripting :"

They watched on in silence as Gene's voice came loud and clear,

_"I hope you're on the bloody pill."_

Gene closed his eyes and turned away. He hadn't even remembered asking that.

"Shit," he mumbled.

Whatever Mrs Shoebury's response had been, it seemed that the sexed-up Gene of 1977 didn't much care ether way.

_"Sod it,"_ he heard his own, recorded voice say, and then he opened his eyes in time to watch the deed beginning with gusto."

"That's enough now," Robin told him. He stepped forward to switch off the tape but Simon tried to pull him away.

"This is none of your business," he cried.

"You think your mum would thank you for this?" cried Robin, "you think she'd want what was probably the biggest mistake of her life broadcast like some movie premiere?" he glanced at Gene. "No offense."

Simon stared a Robin. He panted as his anger began to wear him out. His eyes flicked back to the TV, and then to a still and serious Gene. Finally he realised that Robin was right, and no matter how angry he felt with Gene his mum would be literally turning in her grave. Feelings slightly ashamed of his own behaviour he stepped forward and stopped the tape. He turned around slowly to face Gene. He waited for him to say something - _anything_. Finally Gene spoke, but it wasn't to Simon.

"Think you should get back to your doggy department," he said to Robin.

Robin looked nervously from Gene to Simon.

"I'm not sure –" he began.

"I think we'll be alright without a chaperone now," Gene told him sternly.

Robin hesitated. He wasn't sure about leaving them alone; he could practically see a blood bath emerging, but reluctantly nodded and left quietly, closing the door behind him.

Simon focused on Gene. He tried to read his expression but he'd never seen his face look that way before. He waited for him to speak but it felt as though eons started passing in the silence. Eventually Gene crossed to the filing cabinet and took out two glasses and a bottle.

"Oh great," Simon said angrily, "that's your answer for everything, isn't it? Scotch. Because it looks like that worked out _so_ well for you and my mother."

"Sit down, Shoebury," Gene said flatly.

"I'm tired of 'Sit down Shoebury'," Simon told him.

"Well you're going to have to put up with it one more time," Gene told him. He placed a glass in front of Simon and filled it up, then poured a second scotch for himself. "Sit down. I'll tell you everything. Everything that I know at least. But believe me, this has been as much of a shock for me as it has for you."

Simon hesitated. All of a sudden h wasn't sure how much he wanted to know, and yet at the same time he had so many questions that he felt he had no choice. Very slowly he found himself sinking into a chair, his strength suddenly fading as the anger wore off and the shock sank in. He stared at the glass but didn't reach for it.

"Go on then," he mumbled.

Gene closed his eyes as he sat in his chair. His eye was throbbing but that was the least of his worries. His memory hadn't been the best back in Manchester but it had received a fairly large prod in the right direction now. It seemed even in the afterlife your mistakes could come back to haunt you at any time.

It was time to face the past.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Guess what? This is the 100**__**th**__** chapter of Eyes of Blue! I can hardly believe it. It's surreal how epic this whole thread has become, and believe me it's not over yet. In my mind (such as it is!) I have everything planned out right up to the millennium at the very least. Really, I can't thank you enough for following this seemingly endless story and for your reviews, your thoughts and support, as well as threat involving big sticks!**_


	101. Chapter 55, 1997: Fruitless Wishes

**Chapter 55: 1997**

Simon held his glass. He didn't really want to drink from it but it gave him something to focus his attention on.

"Well?" he prompted eventually. Gene seemed to have been silent for a long time. After promising that he was going to tell Simon exactly what happened he seemed to go into a world of his own. Simon couldn't stand any more waiting. If Gene was going to tell him he needed to do it fast.

"We all make mistakes, Simon."

Gene's words were quiet and measured.

"I just love hearing you talk about my mother that way," Simon said crossly.

"I mean_ I_ was _her_ mistake," Gene told him, "Just as much as she was mine. And I'm not denying that. Whatever else you might say about me I'm not a rat. I don't cheat." He turned to his drink for courage. He wasn't sure he was ready to talk about this. It was too soon after discovering the secret. He didn't have a lot of choice though. "And you were wrong. The other night." He looked at Simon. "I _did_ care. I did care that she had nowhere to go when we let 'er go that night. I felt sorry for her."

"Great, a pity-shag," snapped Simon but Gene wasn't going to put up with any more snidey comments. He stood up quickly and reached across the desk where he grasped Simon by the collar, taking him well and truly by surprise.

"Look, Simon," he hissed, "if you want to hear my side of this then I can tell you it the comfortable way or the uncomfortable way. I'll give you a hint about the second method: It will involve you listening to me from up against the filing cabinet. Clear?"

Simon choked a little.

"_Very,"_ he spluttered.

Gene set him free and sat back down. He took a couple of moments to compose himself again before he continued.

"We arrested the lot of 'em. Yer mother hadn't had as much to drink as most of them. Yes, I felt bad. She had no one to stay with. She'd left the north years before, she was lost and alone. And I wasn't in the best frame o' mind with the first Missus Hunt teaching me a lesson by leaving for a few days. My work was the other woman in my marriage, not your mother."

Simon stared at him, just hoping something that Gene would say might help him feel even _slightly_ better about things.

"So how did you get from the interview room to the bedroom?" he asked bluntly.

"Had no one waiting for me when I got home," said Gene, "told her there was a sofa spare if she wanted one. Did something with her I didn't do very often –"

"Yeah, apparently," Simon huffed.

"Do I need to start grabbing yer collar again?" Gene cried. He saw Simon's eyes move downwards, a little ashamed before he continued. "I _talked_ to 'er. Really talked. Never did that with me ex. Not for a long time, anyway. Never really did with me team. Even Sam was starting to go into a world of his own by then. It felt good. " he paused as he sipped his scotch then sat the glass back on the table. "I didn't tell her about me wife. _She_ didn't tell me she was married either. She hadn't filled in miss or missus on her charge sheet, and I didn't notice her ring until the morning. Hands are not the first place I usually look on a woman."

"You don't need to go down that avenue, Gene," Simon said through gritted teeth, fearing a full review of his mother's top ten body parts.

"She was very upset," Gene continued, "couldn't believe what her family did. Said she barely recognised them any more. I gave her a drink to steady her nerves. She didn't want to drink alone." He sighed and shook his head. "What we did was stupid. I know that. But believe me, I punished meself enough for what happened. I don't need you to do it for me. She was homesick, I was enjoying her company. Took a turn I didn't mean it to. Didn't expect. It's not an excuse but sometimes alcohol whispers things in our ears we'd be better off ignoring."

"No one was pouring it down your throat," Simon said quietly.

"No one was pouring it down _yours_ when you dropped yer trousers for Jimbo either," Gene pointed out.

Simon felt like he'd been stabbed in the guts. He opened his mouth to tell Gene not to bring that into it but he realised that it was no different. He nodded slowly.

"That's fair," he said quietly.

Gene hesitated. That was the first time Simon had acknowledged that much. He took a deep breath before he continued.

"I was an idiot. I made a mistake and I'm not justifying it. Yer mother made a mistake too, because she was in a difficult situation and felt out of her depth. I gave her a bed for the night, maybe that made her feel safer. Sometimes things get mixed up, Simon. And if it's any consolation I felt like a real bastard in the morning."

Simon took a gulp of his drink.

"Not much of a consolation," he said quietly. He ran his finger around his glass for a few moments, trying to work out what to say. Finally he began, "But this… it's not the real world, so it didn't happen out _there_, right?" He looked at Gene hopefully. "It _can't_ have happened in the real world. Even though it happened _here_, my mum didn't really sleep with you?" He noticed that Gene started to look more uncomfortable. "This isn't real –"

"Things were different when –"

"Don't give me that '_things were different in Manchester'_ crap again," Simon cried, "I've heard that too much. Just because Sam Tyler changed a couple of things doesn't mean you can have sex with someone over different dimensions, right?"

Gene stared at Simon. He started to feel the need for an urgent drink refill.

"Simon," he began, "sometimes it's hard to know how these things work."

"But even if… even if somehow everything you said… even if you and mum did… in the real world… even though you're here…" Simon took a mouthful of scotch, trying to organise his words, "all the paternity stuff… _that's_ got to be _bollocks_, hasn't it? My dad was my dad." He stared at Gene, waiting for him to set his mind at ease. The way Gene hastily refilled his glass had the opposite effect. "_Gene?"_

Gene' eyes rose. He stared at Simon. Funny how much of himself he could see in the younger man now.

"Where d'you think you've got that temper from?" he asked.

Simon just stared back. He didn't want to think about Gene's inference. He didn't like what it was suggesting. He swallowed hard and started to feel a bubbling sense of nausea rising inside of him. There was no way on earth that it made any sense to him, there was no _way_ that it could be possible. No way at all. Even if somehow in this world… Back in the real world… babies didn't just cross from one world to another.

Except, they apparently did. Simon felt increasingly hot and sick as he pictured the scan photo that he'd chased Gene halfway up the country with. He started to shake and gulped down the rest of his scotch very quickly. He found his breathing becoming fast and shallow; he could hardly keep himself together.

"You can't… can't know for certain," he said hurriedly, "I mean, the chances are tiny. Far more likely that -" he trailed away as he watched Gene shaking his head slowly. "So, what… you want to get some kind of DNA test or something?" Simon swallowed, terrified at the thought of it, "then we'll know for certain –"

"We already do," Gene said stiffly. He watched Simon freezing like a rabbit caught in headlights. "Batman had some news for me. Apparently when a hospital finds out that a patient who's been in a coma for eight months wakes up four months pregnant they're not very happy about it and start doing tests on the sprog." He stared at Simon very seriously. "You've got a half-sister on the way," he said, his voice wavering slightly.

Simon stared back. The words had no meaning to him. They flew over his head and went straight out the door. They made no sense.

"Explain that to me," he whispered.

"The testing whatsits showed that you and Bolly's baby have the same father," Gene said tautly.

Simon found his head shaking and his body trembling. He stared at Gene and saw for the first time the common traits they shared; the blue eyes, the fair hair, some features on their faces, even some mannerisms. He swallowed as he started to get to his feet. He thought back to some of the bizarre things he'd been through since arriving in Gene's world – getting thrown in at the deep end with his post, the 'golden child' label Keats had attached to him, all the little things that seemed to suggest there was a reason he was pre-disposed for that job.

"No," he whispered, his head shaking more firmly now.

"I'm sorry," Gene told him, "believe me, I'm every bit as shocked as you, Shoebury."

"I'm not even a Shoebury," Simon whispered, swallowing again. His eyes closed in horror as certain things started to come back to him; memories of his time in Gene's world, the way he'd found himself drawn to Gene, the crush he'd always denied. _Oh god, _what a horrid wave of nausea _that_ brought to him. He felt his mouth drop open in horror as he stared at Gene before him. The crush, the _fucking crush_ – "Oh god," he started to back away a little as the awful truth dawned on him. He'd hated even _having_ the crush, it made him feel like a stupid, hormonal teenager and Gene was so far outside of his usual 'type' that he'd never been able to understand it. He thought about truth or dare with Kim where she'd prised the admission from him; awkward situations where Gene's filing cabinet method had prompted an inappropriate response, the damn kissing dare –

That was enough. The full force of the truth built up to a crescendo inside of him and Simon knew he couldn't stay there any longer. His stomach churned and lurched and he spun on his heels, his legs driving him at speed out of CID and down the corridor, silently begging to make it to the bathroom in time. He didn't even notice Robin waiting in CID, fearing that a second bout was going to erupt.

"Simon?" he called after him as he watched him race past. He glanced back at the open office door and caught a glimpse of Gene sitting behind his desk, grim and uneasy. He turned back towards the direction Simon had moved in and took up the chase. "_Simon,"_ he tried calling again.

Simon barely made it into the toilets and to the sink before his stomach violently purged itself of its contents. He only wished that his mind could do the same thing. He choked and retched as the horror of the situation filled his mind. He couldn't handle it. It was too much to deal with. It was too much for _anyone_ to deal with.

The door opened behind him. He'd heard Robin's voice call him as he'd raced by so he had a fair idea who it was going to be. He didn't even need to turn around. He heard Robin's footsteps edging closer as he stood at the sink, breathing deeply. He finally cooled himself down enough to speak, albeit with a quiet and broken voice.

"I thought that sort of thing only happened on TV and in films," he said.

He could feel Robin's presence behind him.

"_What_ did?" he asked.

"Someone finding out something that disgusts them so much that they actually throw up," Simon said quietly. He sank to the floor, a sad and pitiful sight. Robin swallowed. He felt awkward standing up when Simon seemed to be melting into a puddle so he sank down carefully beside him.

"As far as DNA goes you could do worse than getting some of yours from Gene Hunt," he said.

"That's not the half of it," Simon said despondently. He wiped his face with his sleeve and shook his head slowly. He couldn't comprehend all that he'd discovered. He didn't know how he was ever going to come to terms with it.

"It might help if you talked it through," Robin said quietly.

Simon shook his head.

"I doubt it," he whispered, "and it's not as though you care."

"I'll _always_ care," Robin told him honestly. He saw Simon turn his head a fraction in his direction. "More than a year apart… we both had lives to lead. Different lives. We've both been through stuff. Our lives have both changed. Doesn't mean that I don't care." 

"But not enough, right?" Simon asked.

Robin looked down.

"I'll always care, and I'll always love you," he whispered, "but –"

Simon nodded.

"But you met someone else," he said, not feeling quite up to acknowledging who.

Robin nodded slowly. He stared down at his feet as he said quietly,

"_Don't wait for me, don't deny yourself the chance to be happy, the chance to love someone and share your life with them."_ He turned and met Simon's eye for the first time. "That's what you said in your letter. 

Simon nodded.

"I remember," he whispered.

"I must have read it more than a thousand times," Robin said quietly, "I know it almost off by heart."

Simon turned away and stared at the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at it as he began,

"And I meant it, Robin. I wanted you to be happy. " He hung his head, "I just didn't realise how much it was going to hurt."

Robin bit on his lip.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "that… that was always my biggest fear. Because the last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you. And if I thought that you hadn't meant what you'd said in your letter then…"

Simon looked at him as he trailed away.

"Then what?" he asked.

Robin looked down. He'd been about to say that things could have been different but as he thought about it he wasn't sure that was true. He couldn't have imagined the last eight months without Kim, whether Simon had offered his blessing or not. More than that, he didn't _want_ to imagine it.

"Nothing," he said quietly.

Simon breathed in deeply. He looked at Robin again.

"So how serious is it?" he asked quietly. Robin chewed on his lip again. His nervous silence filled in the blank for Simon who nodded. "I still wear the ring, you know," he said, the slightest hint of a tear creeping into his voice. He held his hand out for Robin to see. The sight of it almost crushed Robin's chest with guilt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I thought you wore the one they found on my body after the accident," Simon said quietly.

Robin looked down.

"I did," he whispered, "for a long time."

Simon stared at Robin's hand.

"No ring now," he whispered.

Robin felt his eyes starting to mist over. He nodded slowly and bit down on his lip to stop himself from crying.

"It's not like I pawned it, Simon," he whispered, "I keep it safe in a box full of memories, right under the bed, so you're always there."

"Always there with you and Kim bouncing up and down on top of me," Simon said, letting the bitterness out.

Robin looked at him crossly.

"I thought we were getting somewhere," he said, "I'm not getting into this. If you're going to be like that –"

"I'm not, I'm not," Simon said quickly, "I'm sorry." He turned his body around to face Robin properly for the first time and, a few moments later, watched as Robin did the same. He felt a little ashamed by his comment. He knew it was childish and spiteful. He looked at Robin seriously. "I saw you," he whispered, "how many times you were almost here again. In the car with Alex, the hospital with Keats, getting Kim and Molly off the barge." He swallowed. "Why the hell didn't you make it over sooner?"

Robin shook his head slowly.

"It just wasn't my time," he whispered, "I always had another job to do."

Simon hesitated.

"But now," he began, "this is your time?"

Robin looked down. He really wasn't certain of that.

"I don't think it was supposed to be," he said quietly, "Alex has been fighting hard to get home. Something went wrong. She should have been here, back with Gene." 

"Or maybe you should have been back with me?" Simon asked hopefully.

Robin didn't know how to respond to that. The more Simon pushed, the more guilt he felt creeping in. He'd always known that a reunion with Simon was going to throw him a huge dilemma but he was finding himself more and more certain of what he wanted. It was true that he still loved Simon. He was certain he always would. But death had brought a clarity to his feelings that he hadn't had before. As much as he loved Simon still, his heart was in a different place. A different world.

"Simon," he whispered.

"Don't finish that," Simon said quickly. He didn't want to hear something that he wasn't ready for, but Robin needed to say it.

"I love Kim."

Simon's head dropped along with the tears he'd been trying to hold back. He hadn't expected him to say anything different, but that didn't mean it hurt any the less. He tried to compose himself, he took in a deep breath and whispered.

"But you still love me?"

Robin bit his lip.

"I'm _in_ love with Kim," he whispered.

"You can't tell me there's no chance for us," Simon looked him in the eye, "after all we've been through. After all you went through to get back here before. I saw the tape – the car crash, the bloody _heart_ attack – I tried to hold onto you, I tried to pull you over –"

"It all failed for a reason," Robin whispered.

Simon shook his head.

"Then you must be here, now, for a reason too," he whispered. He watched Robin as a tear fell from his eye and started to roll down his face. "You're back here, Rob, and whatever you might have had with Kim for a little while –"

"Excuse me?"

"- she's over there. The other side. The place you can't go back to." He reached forward and brushed the tear from Robin's cheek. "We could still be happy," he whispered.

"Simon –"

"Please?" Simon begged with his eyes, "give me another chance?"

Robin's brow crinkled as he tried to hold back tears.

"It's not about chances," he whispered, "how would it be fair on you if we got back together but I never felt the same again?"

"We can only try," whispered Simon. He stared at Robin, desperately hoping that he would show some sign of agreeing but he seemed so distant. He found himself reaching over and gently touching the eyebrow piercing that he'd seen with such confusion the day before. "You've changed so much." 

Robin looked down.

"We all change, he whispered.

"She's changed you," Simon said.

Robin frowned and shook his head.

"No," he said firmly, "she made me stronger. That's not the same as changing me." 

"All the bloody tattoos and piercings, all the freak show stuff –" 

"_Freak_ show?" cried Robin. Suddenly his expression changed. It filled with hurt. "You want freak show –" he pulled open part of his shirt, taking a deep breath for courage, and whispered, "how about some insane man with a devil complex covering my body with these fucking scars?" there was a look of desperation on Robin's face now, "_look_ at me, Simon. Look at what he did. And this is the man that you bent right over for."

"Oh my god… I'm sorry, Rob, I'm so sorry –"

"You have no idea how much the physical reminder scarred me in the head," Robin told him, "until Kim weaved her magic. She changed the meaning of this for me."

"I have scars too," Simon whispered.

Robin nodded and looked down.

"Kim told me," he whispered.

"Same place as you," Simon said quietly. He looked down. "My body's gone to wrack and ruin." he hung his head. "Bloody scars and spare tyres." He glanced back at Robin. "And look at _you_. When did you become –" he trailed off as he stared at the muscle on Robin's arms.

"It's not a bloody vanity thing," Robin told him, "I needed to be stronger. In case I needed to fight for my life." He swallowed as he thought about Keats and the barge, "which I did."

Simon stared at Robin, breathing deeply. He felt like they'd covered more ground in the last few minutes than they had from the moment Robin stepped out of the jewellery shop.

"Where does any of this leave us?" he whispered.

Robin looked down. He wished that he could give Simon what he wanted but his heart was already torn in two

"I love Kim," he whispered.

"But Kim's not here," Simon told him.

Robin closed his eyes and swallowed. Simon wasn't listening. Going round in circles wasn't going to help. He felt alone and torn, and all he wanted was to turn back the clock. The world was full of hopeless wishes that weren't going to come true.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: On the home straight now… there are only about 3 chapters left, and I'm on a race against time with a baby that is showing signs she really want to make an escape sooner than planned as well! She needs to stay put just a bit longer – and answers are coming here soon too, patience all round! Oh, and don't forget to vote in the poll on my profile if you haven't already!**_


	102. Chapter 56, 1997: Genetic Messes

**Chapter 56: 1997**

Gene couldn't have been any more surprised to see Simon back at his door He looked up in genuine surprise. After Simon had made such a fast and clearly uncomfortable exit he hadn't expected to see him again for a long time – if ever. There was a part of him that suspected Simon was more likely to spend the rest of the day checking job vacancies, looking for a post as a geek-speak translator or something.

Simon certainly didn't look in the best state upon his return. His whole body seemed limp and lifeless, his skin a mixture between grey and deathly pale. There seemed to be a patch of neon pink liquid soap on his trousers from his spell sitting on the floor in the bathroom but Gene suspected it was best not to mention that.

"I'm…" Simon looked extremely uncomfortable, "sorry. About your eye."

Gene nodded.

"Just as well I've got a spare," he said. He hesitated for a while, unsure what else to say. "You turned an interesting colour before you disappeared, Shoebury," he said eventually.

Simon didn't look up.

"I think you should stop calling me that," he said quietly.

"Nothing we've found out in the last two days changes who you are," Gene pointed out.

"That's easy for you to say, you're not the one whose DNA is totally different to what they thought all their life."

"No, I'm the one who suddenly had a bloody thirty-something-year-old son who has three lego skutters on his bedside cabinet and a keyring that says _'My Other Car Is Red Dwarf'," _Gene pointed out.

Simon sank into a chair but he still couldn't look Gene in the eye.

"You don't have to worry, it's not catching," he mumbled, "you're not going to wake up one day and start quoting Space Corps Directives." He stared at his empty glass, still sitting on the desk. "And no, you don't have some kind of recessive nerd gene that you passed onto me."

"Well we'll know for sure if Bolly gives birth to something with an H on its head," Gene commented. He stared at Simon. He knew coming back after running out had taken some guts, especially since that was presumably what he'd been spilling in the bathroom, but he wasn't sure why he'd come back. He wasn't opening up. He wouldn't even look at him. Maybe he was waiting for Gene to say something? Finally he sighed and said, "we're going to have to find a way to work together, you know."

Simon nodded slowly.

"I know," he said.

"Because it's not going to do anyone any good if we're tearing each other's throats out over something that's got nothing to do with Fenchurch East. You brought me back here. Made me see I need to get back on track. Do a better job." He sighed and picked up a couple of files. "Got two new recruits on their way tomorrow. Looks like I was wrong when I thought they'd all slowed down because I wasn't doing me job. Looks like things had paused for a bit, to let Batman through. Whatever else is going on, there's a job to do."

Simon nodded.

"I know," he said again.

Gene knew that there was little more they had to say to each other for now. There had been anger and denial, explanations and excuses, and what needed to follow was some time to think things through before they could begin to work out where they stood with one another. There was one last thing he needed to say though.

"You know, Simon," he began, "when I first realised… when you showed me the interview tape… there was one thing that scared me the most."

Simon finally glanced at Gene.

"The fact that you actually shared your DNA wih someone who can quote every line of _The X Files?"_ Simon guessed, only half sarcastically.

Gene shook his head.

"You were the first friend I'd had in sixteen years," he said, "and I knew that was going to go right down the drain." He saw Simon half-glance at hm. "After Sam went to the pub, that was it for me. There's a big difference between having drinking mates and someone who you actually call a friend." He shrugged. "Now all _that's_ gone down the bloody bog."

Simon looked down. He knew that Gene had a point. They had become friends, despite a lot of differences, and he wasn't sure they would ever be able to go back to that. Maybe the truth had changed things between them too much. He got to his feet and moved slowly to the door.

"Look," he began quietly, "I think we both need some thinking space. I've got to go." He finally met Gene's eye for a moment and saw him nod before he turned and left the office.

Watching him walk away, Gene put his hands to his head and exhaled loudly. He had no idea where things were going to go from there. He had a feeling that Simon's torment ran deeper than he was ready to let him into and it was going to take some time for either of them to work out how to communicate normally again. He only hoped that with time some of the rift would start to heal over.

~xXx~

Robin walked down the dark street towards the flat, passing the black Aston Martin halfway there. He suspected Gene was already settling down for the night. He could see the shape of a bottle of scotch against the window and felt fairly sure he could see Gene tucking into fish and chips through the slightly huffed-up windows.

Robin felt exhausted and drained. The day had been one long emotional mess. His conversation with Simon had left him feeling guilty and sad, after which an afternoon of training his recruits had followed. The initial training had been a nice distraction, until they got to the part where his recruits each had to choose a name for their dog and Shaz had chosen a very familiar one. Three letters long.

He unlocked the door of the flat and stepped into darkness. He was reaching for the light when a voice called out,

"_Don't jump. It's just me."_

It was already too late. The voice from the darkness had already given Robin a semi-heart attack. He gasped in shock and switched on the light before turning to see Simon sitting on the couch.

"What the hell are you doing sitting in darkness?" he cried.

"Thinking," said Simon.

"Thinking or drinking?" asked Robin. There were a couple of empty beer cans on the table.

"Bit of both," Simon shrugged.

Robin closed the door and laid down his keys. He walked slowly towards Simon and sat down opposite him.

"Gene asked me to make a decision about the living arrangements," he began gently, "he's staying in his car for one more night, but we need to decide who's staying where."

"After today I don't think it's a very good idea to let him take my couch," Simon said quietly, "it's going to be bad enough working with him. Every time I see his arse sticking out the blanket I'm going to get flashbacks to it going up and down on top of my mother."

Robin looked down and nodded slowly.

"So he can have Alex's flat," he said euietly, "I'll give him the keys tomorrow."

Simon looked at him,

"You're going to stay here?" he asked, a hopeful tone in his voice. Robin looked down.

"On the couch," he said.

He saw Simon deflate instantly, even though he hadn't expected anything different. Even though they'd been over so much of this earlier that day he could see that Simon was still holding onto a thread of hope.

"You don't have to," Simon said quietly.

"Well, I'll look for a flat as soon as I can," Robin said quietly.

"That wasn't what I meant," said Simon. He looked pained. "Bed's big enough for two." He watched Robin look away awkwardly. "You know, she might never come back here, don't you?"

Robin looked at him.

"What?"

"Kim," Simon said, "if you're holding out for her she might never come back." He paused and moved forward slightly. "You can't wait for her forever. If she comes back it could be a year. Could be a decade. She might _never_ do. She did leave the force."

"And then she went back," Robin said quietly, looking down.

"Who's to say she's going to stay there?" Simon pointed out, "maybe she'll leave again after what's happened with you. Maybe she'll decide to stick with the tattooing."

"She won't," Robin shook his head.

"How do you know?"

"Because it's in her blood," Robin told him, "she's damn good. She's a DI now."

Simon closed his eyes momentarily as a flashback of a mysteriously-appearing name block came to mind. He hung his head a little.

"Doesn't mean to say she'll want to stay after you've come here," he said, clutching at straws.

"They're chasing her for some fast track promotion thing," Robin said quietly, "she missed being a part of it so much. She's found her niche. She'll stay."

"Even if she does, that doesn't necessarily mean anything," said Simon, "Rob, how long are you going to sit around waiting for her, just hoping?"

"I've been here _one day_, Simon," cried Robin, "I don't _know_, I don't know any of the answers. I haven't even started to come to terms with what's happened. I can't answer this stuff."

"And _us," _Simon began. He waited for Robin to say something but he just stared at his hands. "Can we even be friends? Or have we changed too much?"

Robin swallowed and looked at him.

"You know I still care about you, Simon," he said quietly, "I always will. I don't want to lose your friendship." He looked at Simon seriously. "But you are right, we both have changed so much. We need to start from scratch. We can't just pick up where we left off when I woke up from here. We need to get to know each other all over again. Otherwise we're going to just keep on fighting because we're expecting each other to be people that we haven't been in a long time."

Simon bit his lip and hesitated.

"And," he said quietly, "do you think that there's any chance… while we get to know each other again… that we could be more than friends again? One day?"

Robin looked down, tired of the same conversation again and again.

"Simon –"

"I know, I know, Kim this, Kim that."

"_Simon,"_ Robin said crossly, "this is the problem, you're not listening."

"No, _you're_ not listening," Simon cried, "It's not easy here, Rob. It's lonely on your own. Really fucking lonely. Maybe one day Kim will fall under a bus and you'll find her running around in the station, looking for her office, but that could take years, _if _she ever comes back at all. And if she does then who's to say she won't have moved on? What if she gives you the same speech you keep giving me? And you've spent years waiting for her, all on your own?"

Robin looked at Simon with sadness.

"You're talking about _you_, aren't you?" he whispered, "Fuck, Simon, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. If I'd had a way to send a message to you, the way you did to me, I'd have told you the same thing you said to me – that I wanted you to meet someone and be happy, not to wait for me. Even if I hadn't met Kim or if nothing had ever happened, I still never wanted you to be lonely. I didn't want you sitting around and waiting for me to come back here."

"I don't believe you," said Simon.

"What part don't you believe?"

"You would have been just as gutted to find me with someone else as I was when you told me about you and Kim," said Simon.

"Maybe I'd have been sad in one way," said Robin, "but I'd have been happy for you too."

"You went crazy at me just having a one night stand!" cried Simon.

Robin got to his feet, his eyes filling with anger.

"Simon, that wasn't about the sex, that was about who it was _with!"_ he cried, "Do you think I wouldn't be able to see a difference between you falling in love with someone and bending over to let Keats have his way?"

"It wasn't that simple," Simon protested.

"It was _Keats!"_ cried Robin, "have you forgotten what he's done? He killed you the first time you were here. He stalked you through the real world and made you think he'd sexually assaulted you. He tried to kill you in Alex's hospital room, and then he turned up again in the past like a bad penny, making your life a misery."

"He used to have these… moments of humanity," Simon protested, "just now and then… someone decent would show through. I wanted to help him."

"There's no helping someone like that!" cried Robin.

"And I learnt that the hard way," Simon admitted, "but just for a while…" he shook his head. "I really thought there was a chance he could be human. _Normal."_

Robin shook his head as he sank back down.

"There's nothing normal about him," he hissed.

"You haven't seen as much of him as I have –" Simon began before he realised how that sounded, "I mean, you barely knew him –"

"I know enough" cried Robin, "I know enough from the fact he tried to rape me in my own fucking _bedroom."_

Those were words that held such power they almost didn't sink in. Simon stared at him, almost disbelieving what he'd said because it was too much to handle. He swallowed as he stared at Robin's distressed eyes.

"He did what?" he whispered.

"Wasn't really me he wanted," Robin whispered. The full force of the memory started to churn him up inside, "he was about to drag Kim away, when he had us tied up on the barge. I stopped him –" his eyes turned downward. It was too difficult to talk about if he felt like he was actually talking to someone. He had to dislocate himself from it. "So he took me instead."

Simon felt as though someone had torn his heart right out of his chest and ground it up in front of him. He stared at Robin, desperately hoping that he would tell him it wasn't true but the trauma splashed across his face took that hope away.

"_Shit,"_ Simon was barely aware he had spoken, "Robin… Robin, did he -?"

"Almost," Robin's voice was so low that Simon could barely hear him. He watched his lips carefully to help him make out what Robin was saying, "but something stopped him."

Simon was shaking. The thought of someone he still loved so deeply being hurt in such a gut-wrenching, terrible way made him want to scream, to cry, to punch the wall in rage. He stared at Robin as he whispered,

"What stopped him?" He knew Keats. He couldn't imagine _anything_ stopping him when he was about to carry out a plan. He noticed that Robin's expression grew even darker. What could have been harder to deal with than his original admission? How could _anything_ be causing him more pain than the thought of Keats trying to carry out such a terrible act? "Robin?" he felt his heart rate increase as to his horror silent tears began to roll down Robin's cheeks. He watched as his eyes closed and his mouth contorted with a sob that he tried so hard to keep soundless. "Robin, _please_, tell me - what did he do? What the _fuck_ did he do?"

Robin tried to speak but he couldn't force the words out. He gasped for breath, breathed deeply, did all he could to calm his racing pulse and dry his tears but the terrible discovery he'd made just days earlier had grabbed him around the neck and held him down. He didn't know how to put it into words. He didn't know how to bring himself to speak of it.

"There's something you need to know," he choked out eventually.

Simon stared at him. His mouth hung open, awaiting more.

"Yes?" he whispered.

Robin looked down to the ground. He couldn't look at Simon. He couldn't look anywhere near him.

"You're not the only one," he began, "who's had a revelation about your DNA."

Simon tried to work out what Robin was saying.

"I… I don't… understand…" he said hesitantly. He wanted to move across to Robin, to put his arm around his shoulders and comfort him but he didn't feel the gesture would be welcome somehow, and besides Robin's words has disturbed him so much he felt frozen where he was.

"I have a half-brother," Robin whispered.

Simon stared on.

"Who?" his confused frown creased up his face as he tried to understand what Robin was telling him. As he watched Robin's expression crumble into a fresh pool of tears the truth began to creep into his bones. He stared at him, his mouth falling open. He felt himself shaking and he couldn't control his words as he began to speak. "No, no, no, Robin…. No, what the hell are you saying this for?"

"Because it's true," Robin whispered.

Simon stared at him.

"Keats…" he whispered, "you mean _Keats…"_ he watched as Robin slowly nodded, "Robin, you don't have any brothers or sisters –"

"No, I don't. I have a _half_-brother," Robin trembled but his voice grew steadier. He still couldn't meet Simon's stare, "and I never knew. The only thing that stopped Keats in his tracks was when he saw a picture of my father and realised that we shared half our DNA."

"You don't _have_ any pictures of your father." 

"The one folded round the back of the picture of my mum," Robin whispered, "Keats smashed the frame. Then he saw it. He went crazy."

"There's got to be a mistake, Robin, it can't be –"

"It is," cried Robin, "you think I want this to be true? Keats is my fucking half-brother and I have to live the rest of my life knowing that fact."

Simon swallowed as his eyes fixed on Robin. He tried not to see the similarities. He tried not to see the dark hair and eyes; he tried not to see the resemblance between their features. He tried to block them out but those thoughts were very insistent. He shook as he thought back to some of the strange things Keats had said since he'd woken from his coma the previous year. His trip to the real world had given him much fodder to taunt Simon and the others with and he'd alluded to something along those lines, but with Keats's fondness for riddles and obscure coded messages he'd never have figured it out.

"_Robin –"_ he whispered. He didn't know what else to say.

"So there you have it," Robin whispered, "before you start making out that I wouldn't want you to be happy with someone else, please think about the fact that my reaction was from seeing you happily bending over for a man who not only tried to rape me but actually shares my genes."

"Rob, I didn't… I didn't know _any_ of this…" Simon whispered.

Finally Robin looked up and met his eye.

"I wish that _I_ didn't," he whispered.

Simon felt his head pounding. He took a deep breath and got to his feet, reaching quickly for his jacket.

"I… I have to go out…" he said shakily.

"What? _Where_ –" Robin began but Simon was already at the door. The news was too much for him to cope with, coming hot on the heels of his own discovery. He didn't know how to cope – not just from the perspective that Robin, the man he'd loved for so many years, shared the same father as the most vile and evil of all men but now there were strange patterns emerging, echoes of genetics that felt like they must hold some meaning but whatever it was seemed too strange and too complicated to take in.

He pulled his jacket on roughly as he walked at speed down the street. He knew where he was going. He wasn't sure _why_. He wasn't even sure it was a good idea, but it was the first thing that came to mind. He approached the black car parked beside the road and peered through the window, the faint glow of what appeared to be a Gameboy illuminating Gene's face. Simon knocked firmly on the window and sent the Gameboy up in the air as Gene jumped a mile. After picking up his toy and winding down the window he glared crossly at Simon.

"Jesus, Shoebury, I almost beat me high score there! Now thanks to you I'm going to have to start all over again."

Simon took a deep breath. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things on the tip of his tongue. He was desperate to blurt out what he'd just learnt, to ask Gene to help him work out what to do, to beg him for help working out why these discoveries had come forth together and what they meant. But in the end one question rose above the importance of all others.

"How long have you had a _Gameboy?"_ he cried.

Gene switched it off and opened the passenger door.

"Just get in Shoebury," he sighed, "I'll let you have a go later."

Simon hesitated for a moment. There was a strong smell of fish and chips flooding from the car and Gene also seemed to be humming the music to Tetris which didn't seem like a good omen, but there was also a bottle of scotch on the seat which was a very tempting sight. Finally he decided to climb in after all and closed the door behind him. He looked down, trying to steel himself for talking about what he'd learnt.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you tonight," Gene commented, "in fact, after this morning I wasn't sure if or when I'd see you again. Thought you might be hiding in the toilets with Vickery all day from now on."

Simon stared at his hands. His face was grim.

"I've just been told something," he said quietly, "by Robin. About his family."

Gene looked a little worried for a moment.

"I _can't_ have any more illegitimate offspring, Simon," he said quickly, "I've only cheated once and I've never shagged Missus Thomas!"

Simon shook his head.

"Not you this time," he said quietly. He paused. "More like the opposite of you."

His heart sank into his boots as he shared the news that had shocked him to the core. Quite honestly he didn't know how he even managed to say the words, but whatever had happened between them that day and whatever had emerged from the past Gene was still someone that Simon felt he could turn to when things were tough.

Maybe that friendship wasn't at an end after all.

~xXx~

He hadn't expected any different. He really hadn't. Robin knew that when the truth came out Simon would find it very hard to deal with. And why _wouldn't_ he? After all Keats had put him through in the past, the fact that he and Robin shared the same paternity was going to be so bloody hard to take in.

Robin lost track of how long he sat there, just waiting; hoping that Simon might come back so that they could talk things through, but when he hadn't returned after half an hour he realised that Simon had probably either gone in search of alcohol or Gene. He hoped it would be the latter. Although, to be fair, the latter would probably provide the first.

Robin was exhausted. He didn't really know what to do. All he wanted to do was to curl up and go to sleep so that he could escape the dire situation for a little while. He wasn't really hungry and the thought of food was abhorrent to him right then. Eventually he pulled his legs up onto the couch and reached for the TV remote. He switched it on and flicked half-heartedly through some of the channels. He hadn't expected to find much and the TV had lived down to his expectations.

He left some programme about glassmaking on in the background as he laid his head down across the arm of the sofa. He closed his eyes, even though he knew it was far too early to go to sleep. He just wanted to shut out the world for a while. His mind went over everything from the day – Simon's shock news, their bathroom talk, and now sharing the news of his own genetic secrets. He still felt as though the reality hadn't sunk in yet; of being trapped in another world with no way home. He wasn't sure how well he would cope when it finally did.

A burst of noise from the TV jolted him out of his daze and his eyes opened wide. The channels had stared scrolling maniacally backwards, from the glassmaking through various other stations. He grabbed the remote and started hitting the buttons, trying to stop it from freaking out.

"Bloody cable," he mumbled, remembering the days of analogue and some of its more bizarre quirks. He jabbed at the buttons until they finally stuck on BBC 1 for a few moments, the volume taking liberties and reaching a crescendo that made him scream and over his ears for a second before he located the television remote to deal with that particular issue.

"_And coming next month on BBC 1,"_ the loud announcer began, trying to grab Robin's attention, "_plenty of drama as an addict escapes from prison and a young woman sits beside the b–"_

The channel jumped again, back to the glassmaking as a rather boring gentleman explained for the thirteenth time how lucky the human race is to have such a valuable substance at its disposal. Robin found his heart racing. Bloody technology, always freaked him out when it went wrong.

The TV clicked off of its own accord and Robin was left staring at a tiny glowing patch in the middle of the screen as it faded out, breathing heavily to put the shock behind him. He'd forgotten how creepy some of the things that happened in this world could be. He slowly laid back down across the couch, the glassmaking forgotten.

His mind was in a scrambled, homesick mess and 1997 wasn't endearing itself to him in the slightest.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Sooooooo… one more proper chapter to go tomorrow, then a highly enlightening epilogue on Wednesday… and a new story opening up on Thursday where this one leaves off. Baby has strict instructions to stay put until at least the first couple of chapters of the next story are complete! :D**_


	103. Chapter 57: 1997: Bad Smells

**Chapter 57: 1997**

There they were again: the nightmares. The same sounds and images that played every time Robin fell asleep, or even when he only closed his eyes. The same sounds and voices haunted him time and again. He heard the sound of the screeching tyres and an impact of a car striking something, just as he'd heard over and over in his mind. The sound of it made him feel sick. He couldn't explain it. It just churned his stomach. The sound was followed by the protesting voice, pleading that it wasn't fair – the voice was ever more desperate each time the nightmare played. He wanted to help whoever it was but didn't know how.

But this time the dream went on, just for a moment; a whisper in his ear, a quiet voice, so soothing and gentle. He couldn't make out the words but just the voice alone sent a warmth through his body that gave him comfort for the first time since the gun had fired a bullet into his back.

Then with the feeling of something brushing his hand he was wide awake. His eyes opened wide and he took a deep breath, trying to adjust as the sun started to bring light to Fenchurch. The blanket was tangled around him as he lay across the couch, wrapped around his legs as though trying to restrain him. God, what was the time? How long had he been asleep for? The last thing he remembered was feeling exhausted, watching some utter tripe about glassmaking and getting spooked out by the malfunctioning cable box and a very loud BBC1 announcer.

"Shit," he lowered his legs to the floor and rubbed his face. He started to remember the immediate events before that; telling Simon about Keats. He wasn't even sure he should have done that, not so soon at least. Simon had enough to deal with. Where had he gone? had he even come back? He wasn't sure. If he had, he'd slept right through his return.

His hand felt strange. It took him a couple of moments to realise that. It felt like he had something stuck to it so he reached down to brush it away but to his surprise there was something around his finger and it wasn't going anywhere. He peered down and found a ring; it seemed to be white-gold with a deeply engraved pattern around it. He felt a strange thumping in his chest as his heart gave an extra hard beat. It hadn't been there the night before, he knew that much, but it was certainly there now.

"What the fuck _?" he tried to work out where it had come from but he couldn't make any sense of it. At first it had spooked him even more because it had appeared on his ring finger and he'd wondered for a split second if Simon had tried to make him wear his engagement ring again in the middle of the night but this was a ring he'd never seen before. He turned it around and around, bewildered about its arrival. He remembered the strange sensation from the end of his dream, like someone touching his hand. It made him sit quite still and silent for some time, deep in thought, trying his hardest to work out what was going on. He stared at his hand but no answers came to him.

Still feeling shaken, he stood up and brushed the hair from his eye. He found himself constantly fiddling with the ring, poking at it, staring at it. It had become a huge question mark to him.

He picked up his shirt and sniffed it. It wasn't particularly fresh by now and he was going to be glad to finally visit the flat he had apparently been given and pickup whatever clothes were supposed to be his. He wasn't' used to wearing the same clothes for days on end, especially not the same underpants. He was fairly sure they were going to walk to work on their own.

He grabbed the rest of his uniform and began to head to the bathroom, pausing outside the door of Simon's bedroom along the way. He looked inside and found him fast asleep, sprawled on top of his covers, fully dressed. Bizarrely there seemed to be a Gameboy bleeping away beside him, running through a demo of a game that Simon had fallen asleep in the middle of long ago. He left him in peace and quickly took a shower then got some breakfast. He hoped he could get to work before Simon awoke. Things between them were still frosty and awkward, and although Robin really wanted to find some middle ground and try to get to know each other once again on a friendship level at least he also knew that some space between them would be a real relief.

He looked at the clock and saw it wasn't quite eight yet as he finished off some cornflakes. He would have to go shopping, he decided. He was starting to go crazy without having piles of ingredients around him. Even though he was failing to find much of an appetite he missed cooking and just doing the normal things that were a part of his day.

When he started thinking about that, his mind went onto another part of his usual day. _Kim_. The first day and a half of time in 1997 had been so fraught and so surreal that his mind had been constantly distracted with genetic connections, skipping time zones, starting a new job and trying to stop Simon from knocking Gene's block off. Now, in the quiet kitchen with no one around he found his thoughts on one subject and one subject alone.

He found himself staring into his almost empty bowl. He could see images of Kim swirling around in the milk if he tried hard enough. This was it, he realised. This was the very thing that they had tried so hard to avoid all those months ago -

As their bleedthroughs to the nineties had been growing stronger and closer together, just after they started to see one another as a couple, they realised that sooner or later one of them would most likely wind up on the other side. They'd both had heart-breaking experiences of having to come to terms with saying goodbye to someone they loved dearly while stuck on opposite sides of the line, Robin with Simon and Kim with Shaz. As they fell more deeply for each other they both realised that the longer they spent together the harder it would be when the time came and Gene's world called one of them over.

They had said their goodbyes, given themselves one final night together and parted with anguish but their need to be together was too strong. Their goodbye lasted for only a couple of hours and Kim said goodbye to her marriage instead. They just had to be together.

"But this was the very thing we tried so hard to save ourselves from," Robin whispered to himself as he closed his eyes and tried to bite back tears. He felt as though he had to keep his heartbreak under wraps, with Simon smarting from Robin's return not being the romantic reunion he'd been dreaming of and Gene still in a state of devastation that Alex was on the wrong side of the line, he didn't feel able to show how crushed he felt inside. So his relationship with Kim wasn't conventional – that didn't make it any the less powerful. In fact, it only made their relationship strong because of all they'd had to fight through.

He took a few deep breaths to try to calm his emotions, then stood up and took his bowl to the sink. he could hear Simon starting to potter about and he wanted to get moving before he had a chance to start a conversation that would tip him over the edge and bring out the tears he was fighting back for all he was worth.

~xXx~

"Time to drive to work," Gene announced to himself before starting the engine, driving twenty meters and parking the car. _Easiest drive ever._ He looked around outside, hoping Simon or Robin might have been passing by so that he could persuade them to head on a latte run but unfortunately he'd already missed one of them and the other was still trying to finish a high-scoring game so that he could return Gene's Gameboy that morning. "Bollocks. I'll have to send Terry," he mumbled.

He climbed out of the car and turned to head into the station when a mocking laugh sounded from nearby and a man in a long coat stepped out of the shadows with an illuminated grin across his face.

"Oh, Gene," he smiled, "where _did_ you get a shiner like that?"

Gene's eye was certainly showing the effects of Simon's discovery the day before. Despite purchasing a bag of frozen peas to put over it, the bruising was painful and difficult to hide. _I knew I should have worn me shades,_ Gene thought to himself as he fixed a stare on Keats. He made his stare neutral. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing his anger.

"Latest fashion accessory," he said flatly, _"now you too can look like you've been in a barroom brawl for just nine ninety nine."_

"That's funny," said Keats, "because I was thinking it might have something to do with a tape. So much sex and violence on TV these days, don't you think? The effect it has on society is shocking. Wouldn't let any kid of mine watch it. How about you, Gene?" he raised his eyebrow and turned his smug smile up a notch, "would you let _your_ kid watch all that depraved sex on television?"

"The way I hear it most of that sex and violence resides in your own personal video collection," Gene told him.

"So he finally figures it out," Keats laughed to himself, "my god, have you got any idea how long it's taken him? No wonder he can't even handle a few mutant toasters. Not exactly following in his daddy's footsteps, is he?"

"Look," Gene stepped forward and pushed Keats against the side of the doorway, "You got what you wanted. You've had your fun. You've stuck yer nose in where it wasn't wanted and dug up a few bits of the Hunt family tree. Now, guess what?" he stepped closer and pressed Keats firmly to the wall with the palm of his hand which caught him by surprise with an alarmed _'Ug'_ noise, "I know something about _your_ family tree too."

"Is that right?" Keats tried to keep his tone calm but the force of Gene's hand against his chest was making it difficult to breathe, "funny that, I thought I grew on a gooseberry bush."

"If that had been true someone would have burnt it down," Gene hissed, "now get away from my station before I have to disinfect the bloody doors."

He let go of Keats and took a step back, watching the bespectacled madman splutter a little as he tried to get some air back into his chest. He straightened up his coat and glowered at Gene.

"I've been off my game lately but suddenly I'm feeling so much better," he hissed, "I get the feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other."

"That's a shame," Gene said coldly, "I'll have to get someone to black me other eye, then I won't have to 'see' you at all."

"I take it that was a gift from your long lost offspring?" Keats asked with a chuckle. He reached out to prod Gene's swollen eye but Gene slapped his arm away instantly, "comes to something when even the head of CID can't deal with a bit of domestic violence."

"You can leave now or I can open that door and ask the nice security guards with their stupid crappy hats to come and escort you down the road," Gene told him, "which is it going to be?"

"And I'm _sure_ it's no stain on your character," Keats pressed further, "having a son whose back alley has seen more action than you've had points on your driving license."

Gene felt a kind of anger swirling inside of him that he'd never really experienced before. He took a lunge towards Keats and pushed him against the wall again.

"Lay off Simon or you'll be fishing your teeth out the letterbox with a pair of tweezers," he hissed.

"Left it a bit late to play the daddy role now, haven't you Gene?" Keats sneered, despite his situation, "Never mind. At least Alex vanished before you had the chance to screw up _two_ children instead of one."

"_Fucking –"_ Gene didn't even need to finish his sentence as he swung a punch into Keats's stomach and a knee into his groin. He stepped back to admire his handiwork as Keats doubled up, coughing and retching as the pain from the double blow overwhelmed him for a moment, but not quite for long enough. He dived for Gene and sent a punch at his jaw, then grasped his coat and yanked him sideways to send him sprawling down the steps of the station. At the last moment Gene managed to grab the hem of Keats's coat and the force of his fall dragged the devil down with him.

At the bottom of the steps, Gene started to scramble upright before Keats could catch his bearings and aimed afoot towards his face. He struck him on the chin but Keats grabbed his foot and pulled him down to the ground where his head hit the curb and he found himself stunned momentarily, unable to stop Keats from ramming a knee into his groin. Gene could hear someone yelling his name but he couldn't make out who it was or where it was coming from, all he could focus on was grabbing Keats' arm and violently swinging him sideways where he started to climb on top of him for one more punch but before he had a chance a pair of hands grasped him and pulled him away.

"Gene, what the hell are you doing?" Simon's voice was full of alarm and confusion.

"Giving the trout in the trench coat a lesson in sticking to his own station," Gene huffed, pushing Simon away, "get _off_ me."

Keats, still on the ground, tried to right himself a little, rubbing at his bleeding face.

"Aw, didn't daddy want a hug?" he spat.

Simon turned to Keats, his own anger flaring as Robin's words from the day before came back to him. Suddenly he wasn't altogether sure why he'd pulled Gene away; to stop Gene from getting hurt or just so that he could have his own turn. He launched his foot in the direction of Keats's groin and although he tried to cover himself Simon's foot came down so hard that it made no difference and Simon succeeded in crushing both his private parts and his fingers. The sound of Keats screaming was one to behold.

"You are one sick bastard," he hissed, "one sick, fucking bastard."

Gene grasped Simon's arm.

"Shoebury, if _I'm_ not allowed to mash him into pulp this morning then neither are you," he said.

"You thought I'd never find out what you tried to do to Robin?" Simon hissed, "you need to be castrated, Keats. Castrated and locked away."

Keats staggered to his feet. It was a miracle he managed to straighten himself up as much as he did, the pain between his legs competing with the throbbing wounds on his face.

"Sounds like I got further than _you're_ going to get with him these days, anyway," he still managed a smug smile as he staggered slightly down the road, "never mind, Simon. If you get too lonely again you know where to find me."

"Hopefully in the morgue," Simon's vice was filled with revulsion and he dearly wanted to run after him for one more attack but Gene was already starting to pull him towards the doors.

"Shoebury," he said firmly, "_this_ way. There'll be time to deal with removing his gonads later. If we don't get inside we're going to end up spending a day in the cells." He looked at his torn coat and blood-stained suit, "that's where they're gonna throw me if I don't clean myself up anyway."

Simon threw one last glare at Keats as he stumbled down the road before following Gene into the building. With Robin's arrival in the world Keats had gained a whole new batch of opposite energy to turn into the kind of malevolence he'd been lacking for a while. Both Gene and Simon knew that this meant a dangerous new era for the station with Keats once again burning with a passion for destruction. They were going to have to be aware of every movement he made, to keep a check on his behaviour, because they both knew what he was capable when he truly put his mind to it and they had to make sure he would never get the chance to try.

~xXx~

Victoria tried to ignore her phone but it wouldn't stop ringing. She had a truckload of paperwork sitting on her desk, several cases to chase up and she knew Keats was going to be in at any moment. But the ringing was very insistent and eventually she had to answer it to stop herself going crazy.

"Yes? DI Stone?" she said sharply, hoping that whoever was on the line would get the message that it was a bad time and hang up quickly. There was a pause and a click before a voice came through.

"_Victoria,"_ it began, "_Your favourite inmate here again."_

Victoria froze and her eyes bolted. She swallowed and tried to calm herself a little. Why did these calls get her so worked up? She knew that all she had to do was to put him in his place and go through the proper channels to prevent him from calling her, and yet she never did.

"You are not allowed to call me," she hissed, "the prison will get suspicious, They will see you calling a Fenchurch West extension on your phone records. You could get in trouble every bit as much as I could."

"_I don't want to get anyone in trouble, I want your help."_

"I have told you before, Mister Nailer," she began tightly, "this is not proper procedure. Contact your lawyer. If there is a genuine crime to look at or a real concern to answer then he will go through the proper channels and we will investigate where necessary."

"_It's the 'we' that bothers me,"_ Nailer told her, "_it's 'you' that I need."_

"Why are you so fixated on me?" Victoria hissed, her eyes scanning the room to make sure no one was listening in.

"_Because I want someone I can trust."_

"I am not in the habit of assisting known criminals."

"_Oh yeah?"_ she heard him laugh, _"you work for Jim Keats though, don't you? He's the most corrupt man you'll meet in your sweet little life, Victoria."_

"Look, this is my_ job," _Victoria hissed, "I don't have a choice. I _know_ that. We _all_ know that. He's as crooked as coat hanger but he has an official stamp on everything he does. I cannot help you, Mister Nailer."

"_Arthur Layton is taking over where I left off,"_ Nailer told her urgently, _"and he's doing it badly. Very, very badly. For all you may think of me, my supply lines were clean. You know that. How much have drug-related deaths gone up by since I've been inside? How many cases of tainted narcotics? Check the stats, Vicky. Then make up your mind."_

"Don't call me Vicky," Victoria hissed, "_No _one calls me Vicky. You're far too familiar. What gives you that right?"

She heard him sigh slightly on the line.

"_I feel like we have a connection,"_ he said eventually.

"Yes, in the way that I am up to date wth your case files and you apparently have my phone number."

"No, like a past life. Or a future one."

Victoria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She should have hung up as soon as she heard his voice.

"Mister Nailer, I will look forward to hearing your concerns a through your solicitor," she said, "in the meanwhile I will bid you good day and leave you to your breakfast."

"_I'm sending you a visit request form_," Nailer said before she could hang up, "_you don't have to use it. But I think you might." _He paused. "_Have a good day, Victoria."_

As the line went dead she stared at the receiver, wondering exactly why she felt so charmed every time he called. She knew that each time he spoke to her she could be heading for trouble, and yet she just couldn't seem to fight her fascination with the man.

"This is going to be the end of my career," she whispered as he replaced the receiver. She took in a few deep breaths and tried to compose herself. Her composure faded again as a dishevelled Keats burst through in a bloodied, bruised mess.

"Are you a load of bloody goldfish or something?" he spat at the staring crowd in the office as they all turned in his direction, jaws dropping at the state of him, "shut your mouths and get your brains back on the job!"

The slam of his office door shook the walls, the ceiling and even a few fillings loose. Victoria closed her eyes, her heart racing. The hidden, distracted Keats of late had suddenly started to disappear and the angry and evil one was back. Suddenly the phone calls that she'd been trying not to think about felt like a far more comforting part of her life than she'd realised, and she couldn't get them out of her mind.

~xXx~

Robin stared out of the window of his new office at the training taking place in the car park. He used the term 'training' loosely because he wasn't exactly sure who was training whom. The dogs seemed to be giving the recruits the run-around, that was for certain. He sighed deeply as he turned back to the pile of papers on his desk and flipped them open one by one, finding out what he needed to about each of the new recruits. He was disturbed by the nature of the files which began as he would have expected with the professional record of the person at hand, but then dived into darker territory, explaining how they'd died. Every one he read made him shudder.

When he reached Shaz's file he found she was the odd one out. He remembered Kim telling him about Shaz a long time ago, explaining about her own strange situation and the 'broken' Railway Arms. Shaz wasn't dead; she wasn't a soul waiting to move on. She was one of the drones; one of the people who filled the world, like an extra in a movie scene, but who had now become an individual living out the life that a screwdriver had stolen the first time around.

He felt his stomach turn over as he read her personal details; _Traumatised by death of partner; May 1996. Extensive counselling, antidepressants, discussed leaving employment but chose to stay on and seek a new challenge in her work._

"A four legged challenge," Robin sighed as he watched her out the window with one of the dogs.

The door flew open and someone Robin had never seen in his life barged in.

_"Sir! Sir!"_ he cried, "there's a problem with one of the dogs!"

Robin closed his eyes just for a moment and then turned to him.

"What's the matter?"

"He won't sniff out drugs or explosives," the man panicked, "he seems to have been accidentally trained to sniff out smelly feet," he paused, "and odor eaters."

Robin closed his eyes once again and tried to count to ten but it did little to quell the frustration that built up inside of him. This never happened back home. This was bloody ridiculous. A dog that sniffed out smelly feet? _Great_. Second day on the job and one of the dogs was more suited for a carnival act than a career as a police dog.

"I'll be out in a few minutes," Robin sighed, making a mental note to wash his feet along the way.

He waited for the man to leave before he turned his attention back to the window to try to spot the dog in question. Sure enough, a distressed young sergeant was being dragged around by one shoe in the mouth of a foaming, spitting, angry dog who'd caught a whiff of something highly untoward. He shook his head and gave another sigh. _This never would have happened back home,_ he told himself again. He found himself yearning to swap idiot dogs for morning sickness and swollen ankles.

He stared down at his hand. The ring was still there. Where it had come from he still had no clue, but he couldn't stop focusing on it. Every time he saw it or touched it he felt the strangest sensation inside. He couldn't really explain it. It was peculiarly warm yet at the same time made him feel sad, like something was missing.

Eventually he knew he had to stop focusing on the ring and get outside before there was a sergeant without a foot.

"That'll teach him not to wash his feet before work," he sighed.

~xXx~

Gene wasn't in the mood for the knock at the door He was examining his contorted reflection in the side of his glass, wondering exactly how he'd managed to end up resembling an extra in a boxing movie. He put the empty glass down with a sigh and called for his visitor to enter. He was even less pleased to find it was Fletcher. He could almost taste the lecture in the air.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" he asked.

Fletcher looked serious. He hovered by the doorway and asked,

"Would you mind coming to my office for a moment, Gene?"

Gene flinched. That wasn't something he really wanted to do. He had a bruise the size of Simon's _Red Dwarf_ collection on his leg from his tumble down the stairs and didn't relish the thought of limping all the way down the corridor. Finally though he stood up slowly and hobbled around from behind his desk. One look at the state of both his clothes and his motility changed Fletcher's mind and with a roll of his eyes he said,

"It's alright, Hunt, sit down. We'll talk here." He closed the door behind him and pulled back a chair as he watched Gene sit back down.

"Drink, sir?" Gene offered, passing him the glass he'd been using as a mirror.

"No, thank you," Fletcher shook his head, "and if I were you I'd put the scotch away. Looks like you've been walking into one door too many." He raised an eyebrow hoping that Gene might look just a little ashamed but Gene did no such thing.

"Fell down the stairs, actually," he explained, "need to get those things widened.

Fletcher linked his fingers and leaned forward purposefully.

"Gene," he began tightly, "your brawl is common knowledge. It's not proving very popular amongst these higher up. You need to reign in this behaviour. We all thought you were doing so well –"

Gene scowled at the Super's assumption.

"For your information, _sir,"_ he began, "I was stone cold sober and the incident had nothing to do with either me favourite beverage _or_ me personal situation. Why don't you pay a visit to Fenchurch West and see how the other man came off?"

Fletched hesitated, trying not to sigh. He closed his eyes just for a second.

"Yes, well," he began, "I thought he'd been on the quiet side lately." He looked at Gene with an extremely grim expression, "but with new blood in the station who shares the same qualities that make your approach to the work so different you need to be prepared that this may happen." He leaned forward, "Gene, Keats isn't going to disappear quietly into the night, you know that. It doesn't matter if you brawl on the steps or put your fingers in your ears, chanting _"I can't hear you,"_ he's going to keep on chipping away one way or another until he gets what he wants."

Gene wasn't even sure what that _was_ any more.

"And what does he want, sir?"

"Everything," Fletcher said grimly.

Gene hesitated. That one word truly summed it up. At first Keats had just tried to be on the same level as Gene – his own station, his own CID, his own team – now he wanted to absorb everything Gene had, destroy it, take away anything that meant something to him. He looked down and nodded slowly, focusing on the empty glass. As soon as Fletcher had gone, that was going to be filled to the brim.

"I understand, sir," he said.

Fletcher got to his feet slowly and folded his arms. He liked Gene, he liked the way he worked. He liked his team. He liked Fenchurch East. But he had a job of his own to do, which unfortunately for him was the not-too-small-feat of keeping Gene in line.

"This is a very dangerous time for all of us," he said seriously, "you, me, everyone in this station. The exit of DCI Drake and the arrival of the new chief inspector in the canine unit has brought about a change of energy and dynamic twice in the last year. He's been festering while the energy was low and now that it's growing again he's going to go into overdrive. You have to be aware. You have to be ready and waiting to respond when he makes a move.

"I'm well aware of that," Gene said dryly.

Fletcher examined the state of Gene again.

"You had two new members joining your team today," he began, "I'm going to delay their start by a few days. I don't think they need to have their first impression of the station tainted by a DCI who seems to have gone three rounds with a staircase."

"I'm fine."

_"They_ won't be when they've seen the state of you." Fletcher turned and took a few steps to the doorway, then stopped and turned around. He rested his hand against the door and said, "I heard you were looking for me the other day."

Gene hesitated. He didn't want to think back to his trip to Manchester.

"I don't recall that," he lied.

Fletcher hesitated.

"Well, if you remember why," he raised his eyebrow, "I'll be in my office."

Gene watched him nod, turn and silently leave. He knew Fletcher had a point about Keats, as much as it pained him to admit it. He slowly got to his feet and walked painfully to the filing cabinet where he fetched more glasses and drinks. It was time to call a meeting.

~xXx~

Robin felt sure there was still slobber on his shoes, even though he'd wiped them five times. It seemed that it wasn't just smelly feet the dog objected to, but socks that had been worn for 3 days in a row were another big no-no. He shook his head as he marched up to CID and caught Gene just before he left his office.

"Batman, yer timing is excellent," he announced.

Robin froze.

"It is?" he asked.

Gene nodded.

"I was on me way to call a meeting. Saved me the walk."

Robin wasn't sure what Gene was talking about, nor what meeting he might have been hinting at but he didn't really care. He had other maters on his mind.

"Listen," he began, "before we start the… meeting, yesterday you asked about living arrangements." He paused as he saw Gene's expression change a little. "It… might be a bit uncomfortable for you to stay with Simon after what's emerged," he explained to him, "so if you want the keys to the flat I've been given then go ahead and I'll take up your post on the couch."

Gene nodded slowly. There was a lot to take in. He wasn't sure how he felt about going back to the home he'd shared with Alex. It was going to be a bittersweet experience. But he also didn't think Simon needed the extra pressure of Gene hanging around, taking up valuable sofa space when he didn't think he was quite past the _I'm going to kill you for what you did to my mother_ phase yet. The fact that Simon had turned to him the night before after finding out about Robin's half-sibling had been more progress than he'd expected. Even so, he didn't want to push matters.

"Alright," he nodded, "fair enough, Batman."

Robin reached into his pocket and found the right set of keys.

"Here," he said, "hopefully that will be more comfortable than the car at least."

"Not sure about that," said Gene, "you've not experienced the quality sleep that comes from a world-class interior."

Robin ignored that. The man/car bonding was a little bit beyond him.

"Either way," he said, "is it OK if I pick up whatever's supposed to be mine at the end of the day?" he thought about the foot-sniffing dog and cringed, "I'm starting to smell worse than the dumpster out the back that the strange and slightly… plump woman throws the canteen leftovers into."

Gene nodded.

"Fine by me," he said, "You got enough room at Simon's for yer things with all those nerdy videos in the way?"

"For now," said Robin. He hesitated. "I'm going to look for a flat."

Gene looked at him, not quite understanding at first. He supposed after listening to Simon's heartbreak for over a year that he still assumed that whatever had gone on in the outside world with Kim, Robin would find his way back into a relationship with Simon. The fact this didn't seem to be happening surprised him no end. He found himself worrying about Simon and how he was coping with the situation, but stopped those thoughts abruptly as he realised he was getting too far into actual fatherly concern already. Ashamed of himself he cleared his throat.

"Drinks are on me desk," he said, "think we're going to need them. Make yerself comfortable. I'll find Shoebury."

Robin frowned as he watched Gene limping away.

"What… happened to you?" he asked.

Gene bristled.

"Ran into a rat," he said.

"A rat?" Robin repeated, "you… you look –"

"It was a very _large_ rat," Gene clarified and left before Robin could ask any further questions he didn't want to answer.

~xXx~

Simon paced up and down in his office, trying to work off some of his anger. How dare Keats come around like that? How _dare_ he suddenly start trying to cause more trouble? Simon fumed and ranted to himself as he tried to block out the anger that was increasing. He knew his temper was getting worse and if anyone was likely to get a taste of it then Keats was going the right way about it. He'd barely had a sample that morning of what Simon wanted to do.

"_Shoebury, meeting."_

Simon glanced around. Gene was standing in the doorway in a bit of a state. He sighed and wished he'd got to him sooner, before he'd ended up with quite so many bruises. He really didn't feel like a meeting though, no matter how firmly Gene said the words.

"Can it wait?" he asked quietly. even though some progress had been made he still felt more than uncomfortable around Gene and little shards of memories kept poking him and making his pride smart and burn.

"No," said Gene, "and bring me Gameboy. _One night,_ I said. It's not night now, and I want to beat me high score by the end of the day."

Simon closed his eyes and groaned a little as Gene limped away. He reached into his desk drawer and fished out the Gameboy in question. _Damnit_, he thought Gene had forgotten and he was going to get use out it for another day. Still, he'd have his subtle revenge when Gene realised Simon had beaten his high score three times over; and filled in rude words on the leader board.

~xXx~

Robin was already sipping the brandy that had been left out for him when Gene and a moment later Simon came into the office. He put down the glass and got to his feet as he saw them enter.

"What's all this about?" he asked.

Gene nodded to the chairs.

"Sit down," he told the two men.

Robin and Simon exchanged a brief glance then looked away.

"You'd gone when I got up this morning," Simon said quietly.

Robin bit his lip.

"I went to sleep early so I woke up early," he said quietly, "thought I'd get a head start."

"You can finish the domestics when you go 'ome," Gene told them, "we have to talk."

Simon and Robin did as they were told, sat down and awaited further instructions.

""What's this about?" Robin asked.

Gene sat down and pulled out his flask. He'd surrendered both his glasses to Robin and Simon. He took a swig and waited until he had his words straight in his mind.

"Fletcher came to see me this morning," he said, "wasn't very impressed with me stunt work on the steps outside the station. But he made some good points." He looked at the two men seriously. "Gentlemen, the trail of slime leading from Fenchurch West to here is getting thicker and sticker by the day and if we're not careful someone's going to slip ion it and break their ruddy neck." He turned to Robin. "We have a problem in these parts. Me, Simon, Bolly too – we get it all wrong. We're not supposed to give a shiny shit about the people who come here. We're supposed do our job and move them on. Somehow that doesn't happen." He sipped his scotch. "Then Jimbo comes around like a giant hoover of negativity and sucks up all the energy that somehow appears."

"Energy?" Robin frowned, "I don't get it." 

"We do good stuff and he does bad," Gene explained quite simply, "come on, Batman, you're in the geek squad, what's that thing about every action having an equal and opposite reaction?"

"Keats feeds off the bad, evil energy that gets created to balance out the good energy," Simon tried to explain quietly, "He was already twisted but the more of this stuff he takes in, the more unhinged he becomes."

"things went a bit quiet when I lost Bols," Gene said stiffly, "without her… and with me head in a mess… there wasn't much for him to take."

"No, just enough for him to chop down my family tree," Simon mumbled but a glare from Gene silenced him.

"Problem is," Gene continued, "there's someone new on the block." He looked at Robin. "And you're one of _us_. Jimbo's going to lap it up."

"He's not going to get anything from me," Robin said angrily.

"You can't help it, Rob," Simon tried to explain, "it just happens. You can't stop it. It's who you are. Who we _all_ are."

"Things haven't been easy streets round here," Gene began, his expressing hard and strong, "I'm to blame as much as anyone. Don't function at me best when I haven't got a drop of Bolly to help me through the day. And I know we've got…" he glanced at Simon, "a few white elephants to lock away," he watched him look down. That was going to be a difficult factor to navigate, "as well as turning me bloody station into _heartbreak hotel,"_ he made sure both Simon and Robin looked away uncomfortably, "but we have to be right on the ball because some amoeba called Jim Keats is _not_ going to destroy us. Clear?"

Simon and Robin hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"Yes" they said quietly.

"Can't hear you," Gene told them.

_"Yes, Guv,"_ they both said, louder and more effectively,

"_Good,"_ Gene looked at them seriously. "Things are shifting. And I'm not talking about me underpants with the broken elastic. He's planning something, mark my words. But when he tries to take us on we'll be waiting like a bloody tank to crush him." He turned away slightly as he started to realise just how daunting the prospect was after months of relative peace. With Robin on board Gene knew that Keats was going to be desperate to put all that brand new energy to use and he could strike any time, any place.

He looked at Simon and Robin. Things had changed. He didn't have Alex by his side right then and the shape of the team was shifting. But he knew that together they could withstand whatever Keats sent their way.

They had to.

If Alex were to find her way home then Gene needed her to have a life to come back to.

Something was coming. He could smell it in the air.

And it had nothing to do with Robin's 3 day old socks.

_**~xXx~ The End ~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Oi! PUT THE STICKS DOWN! Let me explain before you come after me with blunt instruments (which would be highly unfair since I can't get out of bed right now!) I had always intended to stop this story here and begin a new story from where this one leaves off because there is a very definite divide in the storyline and it wouldn't make sense to keep going on forever when things take a different turn. They are two individual stories that just happen to follow straight on from one another. So no, put the sticks away. There is no need for them! **_

_**Tomorrow I'll be posting the epilogue which is the catalyst between the two stories and provides big reveals to bring closure to this part and provide the opening for the next story!**_

_**I'm going to say more tomorrow when the epilogue is posted but thank you so very much for all your kind words, encouragement and support through this story – I'll say a proper personal thank you when the epilogue is up, but your reviews and messages have helped keep me going and laughing through the last few retched months.**_

_**I'm off to find a stick-proof helmet!**_


	104. Epilogue: TV Times

_**A/N: Yes, I was supposed to be posting this tomorrow… but the chapter ran away with me and kind of wrote itself quicker than I thought. So sue me!**_

**~xXx~**

**Epilogue**

"Long time, no see," Gene sighed as he sank down onto the couch. It wasn't the couch he was used to, of course. It was a _Robin-esque_ couch picked especially for his tastes. _His_ tastes and definitely not _Gene's_. But Alex's furniture was still in storage so he would make sure he swapped that over as soon as possible.

It was quite unnerving to look around the flat where he'd spent more than ten years sharing his life with Alex and see it all so different. It had shaped itself around Robin's likes and dislikes as these places invariably did. Gene shuddered and muttered a string of obscenities at the large X-Files framed poster on the wall and made a mental note to disinfect the place with geek repellent as soon as possible.

He felt awkward being back. It felt wrong being there without Alex. He felt it was probably something he had to do sooner or later though and Robin's arrival had hurried the process.

"Too quite without you, Bols," he mumbled, getting to his feet, "could do with hearing you letting off a few theories or scribbling in a notebook."

He walked to the TV and picked up the remote control from the top of the set. At least Robin had been given cable. That was a relief. He had a feeling he'd need more than 4 channels to distract him from thoughts of Bolly as he settled back in. He flopped heavily into the couch, noticed a couple of bottles under the table in front of him and reached down to help himself but found that the drink selection, too, was very Robin-orientated.

"Bollocks, no scotch," he mumbled. There was just brandy, and it wasn't even the good stuff. He would have to do something about that. He abandoned the drinks and switched on the TV instead. Looking at the clock, he still had about half an hour before Robin would be round to find a selection of clothes that would stop mutant sniffer dogs from trying to eat him. He began to flip through the channels half-heartedly, not really expecting to find much to watch. In fact, it was at times like this he almost missed the _Landscape Channel_. At least when that was on it gave him something to take the piss out of.

He reached TLC and found a smiling, happy Bob Ross staring back at him.

"Your hair needs some serious attention, Mister Ross," Gene told him, but Bob Ross seemed unfazed by his remark.

"_Welcome back after the break,"_ He smiled, "_I'm just about to start using my one inch brush with a little titanium white and a little pthalo blue to bring in some highlights."_

"You do what you want, mate," Gene told him, "the only time Gene Hunt picks up a paintbrush is when there's decorating to be done. _Manly_ decorating."

"_We'll just work this in through up here,"_ Bob said pleasantly, _"because there are brighter skies on the way."_

"Bollocks there are," said Gene, thinking he just might make an exception this once and reach for the brandy if the cheesy painter on the TV didn't stop rambling soon.

"_And there you are,"_ Bob smiled, _"our sky is just about done. Now, we could bring in a few trees around here, but today I'm going to paint Gene Hunt."_

Every muscle in Gene's body froze. His eyes bolted and he stared at the screen as though it could explain to him what had just happened.

"If you know what's good for you, you won't," he said but there was a shaky tone to his voice. He stared as the smiling man with fairly incredible hair crafted a quick and convincing Gene with a small brush and a palette knife, then turned back to the camera.

"_I'm going to give him a little friend,"_ he smiled, "_can't let him be lonely."_

Gene couldn't understand what he'd just heard. He stared at the screen, unable to move or to speak. Was he going crazy? He'd had a scotch that morning but he was fairly certain he was sober. Had someone slipped something in his latte?

"_Here she is,"_ Bob smiled, _"now we have a little Gene with a little Alex to keep him company."_

On the canvas, besides Bob Ross's depiction of Gene was another figure. Although small and abstract, Gene could see the likeness. He swallowed and felt his stomach flipping over. This made _no_ sense. It couldn't actually be happening. He'd heard certain people talking about messages and other strange events filtering through over TV sets in the past - he was fairly sure Alex had a few over the years and he remembered Sam experiencing a lot of them too - but those were for the living. This made no sense to him at all.

"_let's just add a few little highlights to her hair," _Bob smiled as he carried on painting, but Gene had seen enough. Shaken, disturbed and convinced he was going crazy he quickly changed the station to _L!ve TV_. Now _that_ was more like it. Topless Darts, midgets on trampolines and the weather in Norwegian. That was far more his style.

The extremely cheap station-exclusive soap opera _Canary Wharf _was currently on, its tagline about never being more than five minutes away from a snog proving true as a couple of random characters appeared to be locking lips in an office. Gene leaned back and folded his arms. Yes, he'd found about his level for the day.

He watched on as the snogging couple broke apart and the female of the pair turned to the camera. Instantly his heart felt asthough it fell clear out of his chest, down into his boots somewhere. The sight of Alex's charming smile, her lipstick smudged from her kissing-session turned his legs weak. It wasn't for several moments that he noticed the familiar man she'd been kissing still waiting in the background for another turn, with his cowboy boots and his leather gloves.

"_You won't be more than five minutes away from a snog soon, Gene,"_ she told him through the screen, "_I promise you that."_

"_Bolly,"_ the word left his lips before he even realised he was speaking. He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of the screen as though he could almost climb inside of it. His heart had never raced with such speed and force before. He couldn't understand what was happening or cope with the way it made his head spin.

This time the channel changed of its own accord and _Changing Rooms_ started to play.

"Bollocks, no," Gene cursed, "Get rid of this crap, where's Bol –"

Before he had a chance to finish his rant he realised how familiar the room on the TV actually was. His eyes darted around him, the redecorated flat echoing the room on the screen. The front door opened on the TV and Carol Smilie guided in a blindfolded woman.

_"Alright, you can look now!"_ she said.

The moment the woman removed the blindfold Gene's heart did a loop the loop once again.

"Bugger me, Bolly, what the hell are you doing on _this_ shite?" Gene cried, knowing full well that the depiction of Alex on the screen couldn't hear him, not to mention the fact that he didn't really care why she was on Changing Rooms, the fact that he was seeing her at all was the important part.

"_I… I hate it,"_ she said as she looked around the flat, _"It's not my style at all. Looks like I'll have some redecorating to do when I get home."_

"_Ohhh,_ Bolly," Gene shuffled closer to the screen and placed one hand on each side of the set, trembling as he did so. It still made no sense to him, but he knew that he wasn't the first to get messages through the TV. So this was different – He wasn't alive out there. He wasn't picking up messages from home. _Alex_ was the one whose heart was beating and who was breathing in the real world and she was sending messages to him somehow.

Because she could.

Because she was different.

Because they belonged together.

"Bolly, where are you?" he hissed urgently at the screen, eternally glad that no one was around to see or hear him. Christ, they'd think he had lost the plot. "When are you coming home? What can I do?"

With a buzz of static the channel changed again, a trailer for the new series of _Red Dwarf_ appearing on screen. As the theme tune Simon had subjected him to many times started to play he feared that was it and her messages were over, but suddenly there she was again, dressed from head to toe in a Rimmer-eque suit with an H on her head.

"_Unlike Rimmer, I am quite content with the idea of being dead_," she said. She turned and looked directly at the camera. _"I'm trying, Gene. I'm making my way home."_

"Where the hell _are_ you, Bolly?" Gene cried, shaking the sides of the TV set like a pinball machine, "can we help? How can we get you back?"

Another fizz and splutter and the channel changed; an advert for the retuning of TV sets in the run-up to the launch of Channel 5 beginning to play. Was that it? _Retuning?_ Something had to be retuned about the world for her to get back? Or did Alex have to retune something on the other side of the line?

"_If you haven't already retuned your television set to receive channel five you may find interference on your video recorder when the launch takes place this April,"_ a voiceover said, just as a shot of Alex retuning her television started to play. This time when she turned to the camera her expression was darker.

"_Videos, Gene,"_ she said seriously, _"I must have a video too. Find out what happens to me… find out how I get b-"_

The static that interrupted her made Gene swear like crazy. He slapped the side of the TV, hoping to bring back her last piece of advice but a different channel started instead. To Gene's shock the Teletubbies theme tune began.

"What the bloody hell time of day do you call _this?" _he barked at them, "it's past your bedtime!"

"_Eh-oh!"_ they chanted.

Gene scowled at Dipsy.

"Where the bloody hell were _you_ at Christmas?" he demanded.

To his horror the Noo Noo started to pass across the screen chasing someone, and this time the cameo wasn't made by Alex.

"_What's the naughty Noo Noo doing?"_ the voiceover asked.

"I'm buggered if I know!" cried Gene, "I think I've gone coco-loco."

"Oh dear!" the voiceover said, _"he's chasing a very silly man! Arthur Layton has been on more than the Teletubby Custard!"_

"How the _hell_ did Arthur Layton get a starring role in the bloody _Teletubbies?"_ Gene demanded.

The channel changed one more time, the Teletubbies disappearing and _Casualty _coming on instead. A trolley passed by with doctors and paramedics muttering about an overdose. The camera panned around and focused on another bed with one sheet pulled up over the patient's face. Gene swallowed as the camera slowly zoomed in. He was shaking so much that he thought he was about to collapse to the ground. Just was he wasn't sure he could take any more a pair of hands pulled back the cover and lying on the bed was his Bolly; pale and deathly still. He swallowed, focused on her face. She looked peaceful. She looked _perfect._

When suddenly her eyes opened Gene almost fell backwards in shock. Her expression was far from peaceful now; it was strained… distraught...

"_This all started with him, Gene_," she whispered, "_now it has to end with him."_ Slowly the covers returned across her face, leaving only her voice to whisper, _"here – and there."_

"_Bolly!"_ Gene barked at the television," what the flipping heck do you mean, _here and there?_ What am _I _supposed to do?" he struck the side of the TV as it hissed and fizzed and gave way to static_."Bols!_ Get your bony arse back on that screen! Tell me what you want me to _do!"_

But no matter how many times he tried to bring back the picture all he saw was static until finally he had no choice but to accept that the message had ended and all he could do now was to switch off the television and try to work out exactly what she meant. He sat back against the sofa on the ground, breathing heavily. He could feel his heart thumping away in his chest. Now he understood a little more what it was like for those who were in limbo. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

He supposed he was in limbo too, but his was a different type of limbo; waiting for Alex to return, never knowing when or if she was going to make it back. The more he thought about what he'd seen the more certain he felt that she was going to find a way, but at the same time he knew now that she couldn't do it alone. There was work to be done on both sides of the line – all the Teletubby Custard in the world wasn't going to help him figure out what role he was supposed to play.

"You're coming back, Drakey," he murmured as he stared at the blank television screen. He was certain of that now. But how she was going to make it? That was still a mystery and the thought of what she'd have to go through shook him to the core.

~xXx~

Robin was completely paranoid by the evening that he had the worst case of B.O. in history. After a certain dog had actually tracked him down to his office to show him what he thought of his three-day-old socks he'd done his best to freshen up with soap and air freshener but really there was no substitute for clean clothes. He breathed a sigh of relief as he arrived back at the flat and closed the door behind him. He'd thought that he heard a bark along the way so finally feeling safe from dogs with foot obsessions was a real relief.

He put his keys down for a moment and looked through the lounge for any sign of life. He saw Simon's jacket on the back of a chair and figured that he was either in the kitchen or had stolen Gene's Gameboy and was hiding out in his bedroom to add more rude words to the leaderboard. There was a click and a buzzing of energy and Robin turned around just in time to see the TV switch itself on, with lines of static passing across it. It made him jump out of his skin, yet again. He wasn't getting on very well with that TV. Crossly he switched it off at the standby and swore at it.

"_Robin? Is that you?" _Simon's voice came from the kitchen.

"Yeah, its me," Robin said, a little shakily with a final glare at the now-black screen. He turned around as Simon came out of the kitchen, looking a little sheepish.

"Hard day, huh?" he said quietly.

Robin hesitated. He had a feeling _most_ days were going to be hard in this world. He nodded slowly and gave a weak smile.

"Yeah, not the easiest," he said quietly.

Simon hesitated for a moment. He shuffled uncomfortably on the spot and stared at the floor. Eventually he spoke up.

"Rob, can we talk?" he asked quietly. He saw Robin looking a little nervous and hesitant. "Properly, I mean. I… I won't try putting any pressure on you; no lectures, I just want to try to get _somewhere_ because we can't keep avoiding each other and feeling this awkward."

Slowly, Robin nodded.

"I agree," he said quietly.

"We need to get everything out in the open," Simon said quietly, "and be honest with each other."

Robin nodded again.

"I do agree," he said, "although I'm worried we'll end up rowing again."

"We'll just have to do our best not to," Simon said quietly.

"Alright," Robin agreed.

"Do you want me to order a pizza?" Simon asked.

Robin pulled a face.

"I'll happily _cook_ one," he said, "I was going to go shopping after I'd gone to pick up some clothes and stuff. You've got nothing here."

Simon looked a little embarrassed.

"I know," he said quietly and bit his lip, "I've missed your cooking."

"I'll pick up some stuff after I've been to Gene's," Robin promised.

"No, that's OK, I'll go," said Simon, "it'll save time. That way everything will be here when you get back."

"Do you need me to write a list?" asked Robin.

Simon shook his head with a nostalgic smile.

"With the number of times you cooked your pizza, I still remember the ingredients off by heart," he said quietly.

Robin gave him a slightly nervous smile. He really did hope that this was the start of a more amicable connection between them but it was such early days. He knew anything could happen.

"Alright," he said, "thanks. I appreciate that."

Simon nodded.

"I'll get my wallet," he said, heading back to the kitchen.

Robin glanced at the TV. It was still black and silent but it gave him the creeps nonetheless.

"Simon?" Robin called out, "has your TV always been glitchy or does it just hate me?"

Simon came back from the kitchen clutching his wallet.

"Glitchy?" he repeated.

"Skipping channels. Switching itself on and off."

Simon shrugged.

"I thought it was working fine," he said, "then again, Gene's been sleeping on the couch so he knows that one better than I do." He grabbed his jacket. "Good luck finding a clean uniform."

"Good luck finding the _ingredients_," Robin said with a nervous smile. He watched Simon leave, then turned back to the room with a sigh. It had indeed been a hard day, for _all_ of them. The threat of Keats stepping up his campaign to destroy Fenchurch East was weighing heavily on his mind. He knew it was only a matter of time before he and Keats would come face to face. That was not a meeting he was looking forward to.

There was a click and a funny pinging noise. Robin's attention was drawn immediately to the television set as it hummed and glowed with energy.

_"Shit!_ I switched you off at the standby!" he told it as though it was listening and began to pace towards it to pull its plug but before he had a chance a deafening burst of static blasted over the speakers, the volume set at maximum. He screamed a little pathetically and thrust his hands over his ears. What the hell was going _on?_ _Stupid bloody technology._ He took a deep breath and reached out to switch the set back off but before he had a chance the black and white sparkles on the screen flickered, jumped and cleared to form a picture and the deafening noise cut out and gave way to a voice; the voice of the woman staring back at him from the screen as though she was right there before him.

"_Couvade syndrome,"_ – those were the first words he heard from her. His heart almost stopped as the shock of seeing her face and hearing her voice drove him to his knees. _"Have you heard of that one, Rob?"_ Her eyes were glassy and there were tear tracks running down her face. She was the last person that Robin had expected to see, and the one person he'd have given _anything_ to.

"_Kim,"_ he breathed her name as he reached out and touched the screen. It was the closest he could come to touching her. He was shaking; his hand trembled as it made contact with the television. He could feel his eyes starting to mist up and silently willed the tears to stop forming. He wanted to see her clearly as she looked right at him, her lip wavering despite her best attempts to stop it.

"_I promised myself I wouldn't do this_," she whispered, wiping her eyes roughly on her sleeve between words as she took a jagged breath, _"I always told myself if you went first I would let you be with Simon."_

"Kim, no –" he whispered, edging closer still, trying to understand how come he was seeing her.

"_But something's happened now, Rob, and I can't… can't just leave you there without at least giving you the choice…"_ there was a buzz of static and the picture broke up for a moment which caused Robin to fear that he was about to lose the connection. He screamed and thumped the TV, then her image came back into focus. Her eyes were fixed upon him. If he didn't know better he would have thought she could see right into his gaze.

"_They think I'm about nine weeks, Rob,"_ she whispered,_ "it's… it's much further than I've got before… not like we're out of the woods, but -" _The picture fizzed and crackled again, then cleared as her head drooped and she whispered shakily, _"I had no idea, because you had all my bloody symptoms. Bloody typical, you are, Robin – see, that's why women shouldn't fall in love with gay men, you're so sensitive you get the sympathetic pregnancy and I'm left clueless…"_

Robin felt like his heart stopped right there and the as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened.

_"What?"_ he breathed. His body trembled as he tried to take in what she was telling him.

"_So all that time I've been having a go about you getting up six times a night and scoffing down the beans,"_ Kim continued, her voice shaking, _"you were just saving me from doing the same. Not a hysterical pregnancy, Rob, a sympathetic one…"_

The words hit Robin like a ten ton truck. He breathed deeply and wished that he could hear him as he whispered her name.

"…_.Think it was that time on the bloody hospital chair,"_ he listened to her saying, _"when Alex caught us. Just got a feeling. The dates would fit. Alex's trauma was not in vain…"_

"Oh _god_, Kim," Robin could hardly see her now as he gave up trying to fight the tears.

"…_And then they gave me that ring they found in your pocket,"_ her voice became quieter and shakier, but she continued, _"and Alex told me… she said you'd asked her some questions… that you were thinking about it…it's perfect, Rob. I mean, it's a bit big but, fuck it, I'm wearing it anyway." _A fizz of static interrupted a few of her words, _" – never got the chance to give you yours. I've taken the liberty of putting it on your finger anyway. I –I hope that's alright. Bloody doctors keep trying to take it off. I'm guarding it. Don't give a damn about their jewellery rules."_

Despite everything he gave a quiet and tearful laugh. He could just imagine the doctors exposed the wrath of Kim.

"Make them leave it on," he whispered.

"_So you see, you have to come back,"_ she looked straight at him, her eyes full of anguish_, "I need you. I need you to come and do all the things you promised me we'd do if we…. If I was…"_ she trailed off and looked down, wiping her eyes again, _"you've got to come back; got to hold my hand when I'm on the table and they're doing the scans. Got to tease me about getting fat and waddling. Got to make stupid suggestions for names and take the punishment when I throw stuff at you for picking things from Red Dwarf. You've got to come back because I miss you. And I love you. And I've never said that enough."_

"I already knew," Robin whispered, "you didn't have to say it."

"_they're transferring you to Fenchurch General tomorrow if you're strong enough,"_ Kim whispered, _"I'll be with you all of the way."_

Her eyes closed as she leaned forward and delivered what Robin guessed was a kiss to his cheek. He closed his eyes and choked back a sob, wishing for all the world that he could have felt it.

"I love you too, Kim," he whispered.

"_Be strong."_

Kim's final words before the television gave way to static brought a loud, devastating sob from somewhere deep inside him before the television switched itself off, leaving him crying to a blank screen. He couldn't remember ever crying like that in his life, not even when Simon died. Back then he felt dazed and numb; now, he just felt the most crushing of pain in his heart. He couldn't understand it – his _watch_ had stopped. It had _stopped_ – he knew what that meant. He stared at it there on his wrist, still dead, still motionless. How could that _be_ if he was still fighting out there with Kim by his bedside, begging him to come back?

He trembled as he thought back to that fateful day; to the moment his watch stopped, to his trip to the jewellers in the hope of getting it repaired. His watch stopped before he was shot. It was _already_ broken before he went back. He just assumed –

Just thought that –

As he fell silent he heard a ticking noise. The loud clock from the kitchen. It had been driving him crazy. _Simon_ never seemed to hear it. Weren't all clocks supposed to stop when you were dead?

"Oh my_ god_ –" he reached up and pressed his hands to his head as the realisation came over him, "I'm still alive." He paused as a burning nausea rose in his chest, "I'm still alive out there. I still…" he swallowed, "I still have a chance."

Kim's words swirled around and around in his mind and began to slowly sink in. She was _pregnant_ – she was having his baby. He was going to be a father. After everything they'd been through with the early miscarriages and coming to terms with their loss she was nine weeks in – how the hell had that happened? All those weeks he'd been suffering, all the teasing he'd had about the signs and the baked bean obsession, somehow it had been coming from Kim. Just how close must they have been for that to happen? Just how close –

_That_ was the thought that brought him to tears all over again. Until that moment there had always been a tiny part of him fighting it, a little part that felt such a sense of guilt about Simon that it tried to hold back and argue that they should still be together. But he surrendered now. Kim was the one. How and why, he didn't know. Maybe he never would. But what he knew for certain was that he needed to be with her. He loved her completely and he needed to get home. He wasn't whole without her.

"I'll do it," he whispered, "I'll get back. I don't know how but I will." He hung his head as the emotions overwhelmed him, "I _have_ to."

He had no choice in the matter. Kim needed him. And _he_ needed _Kim_. He would fight with every last drop of strength in his body until he found his way back.

Maybe something hadn't gone wrong in the way he had assumed. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be Alex who went back in that raid two days earlier. Maybe _he_ had a job to do in 1997 before he could find his own way back.

He didn't know what. But he would find out, and then find his way back. He'd done it before, he could do it again.

"I'm coming home, Kim," he whispered, "I promise you that."

And Robin wasn't the kind to break a promise.

**~xXx~ To be Continued ~xXx~**

_**A/N: Aaaaaaaand it's gone! Right, as you can see, it's time to put the sticks away. Next story starts tomorrow (would help if I could choose a name for it though!) and carries on exactly where this one left off. There's a clear break, a change of pace and change of direction, it needs to be started as a new story in its own right. Think of it as a two-part episode :)**_

_**I wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has followed not just this story but the whole sequence right from the beginning. I am forever grateful to A2A for finally taking away the writer's block I'd had for so very long, especially in recent months. I think I'd have gone crazy without using this as my outlet. The one thing I feel really bad about is that I haven't been up to replying to reviews and comments over the last few months, but please don't think that I have taken them for granted or that they are not appreciated – they have really given me a boost and kept me writing when it would have been so much easier just to give up and slowly rot in bed instead! It genuinely means so much to me that the world that's become very real to me matters to other people too. (Although I admit that it's a scary world. I still hate myself for inventing Evan/Beard fan fiction.)**_

_**I want to say a really big thank you to everyone who has left me reviews and thoughts through this monster of a fic, especially Morgana (Geoff is on his way round with a joblot of loofahs), Ocean (and her big stick), Fenella Church, Sashqueenofthejungle, sillygenie, rantandrumour, Life-is-for-finding-answers, jointhehunt, sillivan, MrsJackHarkness, Jazzola, Baibe and anyone I've forgotten. And a huge thank you to Charlotte and Noemi from FB who have been wonderful with their thoughts and comments, and who I've had such a laugh with too – when my health is back up to speed I'll be back on the A2A page properly :)**_

_**Also, thank you to this over-eager baby for staying put until at least the end of this story! My c-section is booked for 2 weeks' time today, although she still is trying to make a break for it sooner than planned, so if I suddenly go quiet you'll know why!**_

_**~xXx~**_


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